


This Secret is Safe

by ThatRavenclawBitch



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Angst, Domestic Violence, Extramarital Affairs, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-25 03:28:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 59,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14968130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatRavenclawBitch/pseuds/ThatRavenclawBitch
Summary: Belle finds herself knocked up at the most inconvenient of times. If only she could stop making a mess of her life and the lives of those around her, she might find the ingredients for a happy ending. Or, Raven saw Waitress and this happened.Winner of Best AU Inspired by Other Media and Best Side Pairing in The Espenson Awards 2019





	1. Chapter 1

Belle French-Stone’s already dismal life took a dramatic turn for the worse in the bathroom of Granny’s Diner at 8:20 AM as she took her first break of the day.

She bit her lip, knowing she’d chewed the tender flesh raw that morning with her worrying. She had bigger problems at the moment though, sat on the lid of the toilet in a cramped stall and watching her life change completely in the blink of an eye.

She stared down at the stick, stark white against the red fabric of her uniform skirt. Two faint lines had formed in the little window and she let out a shuddering gasp, covering her mouth with a hand to trap the sound.

She imagined this was the type of moment where most women found themselves ecstatic, overwhelmed with the joy of the new life forming within them before succumbing to the usual worries of impending motherhood. Belle felt no rush of joy, just an overwhelming sense of dread.

“Belle?” came a voice from outside the stall. “Honey is everything okay in there?”

“Just fine, Ruby,” she said, swiping at the tears that had started to fall unbidden. She didn’t have time for this. Her break was only ten minutes and she had tables to get to. God knows she needed the money now.

She shoved the pregnancy test into the pocket of her apron, grabbing a wad of toilet paper and dabbing at her eyes with the rough single ply. There would be no masking her red eyes, and she steeled herself for Ruby’s inevitable prying questions. Once she was sure she had her emotions under control, she opened the door to the tiny bathroom stall and stepped out.

“Hey,” Ruby said, the sympathy in her eyes almost causing Belle to burst into tears once more. She couldn’t handle anyone feeling sorry for her.

“Bad news?” Ruby asked as Belle skirted around her, headed for the bathroom sink.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said. Belle busied herself with washing and drying her hands far more vigorously than necessary, crumpling up the brown paper towel and forcefully shoving it into the wastebasket.

“You sure?” Ruby continued gamely. “Talking things out usually makes them seem not so scary in my personal opinion.”

“We need to get back to work,” Belle said, crossing her arms and leaning back against the bathroom counter.

“Yeah? What’s Granny going to do, fire us?” Ruby scoffed.

Belle had to snort out a laugh at that. Ruby’s grandmother was tough and ruled the diner with an iron fist, but she’d never boot either of them out, especially if she found out about Belle’s current condition.

“So?” Ruby prompted, pulling a pack of cigarettes from the front pocket of her apron and slipping one between her blood red lips in flagrant violation of Granny's no smoking policy. “What’s going on?”

Belle sighed, digging the pregnancy test out of her pocket and thrusting it toward Ruby. Maybe it would be good to let someone in on the depth of her misery. She could at least trust Ruby to be discreet.

“Holy shit!” Ruby exclaimed, her unlit cigarette dropping to the ground when her lips parted in surprise. She surged forward, grabbing the test out of Belle’s outstretched hand. “You’re fucking preg–”

“Don’t!” Belle interjected. “Please don’t say the word. I can’t bear it.”

“Knocked up,” Ruby said instead. Belle rolled her eyes. That was so much better.

She was knocked up, had a bun in the oven, eating for two, in the family way, no matter how you put it, it didn’t change the fact that Belle was screwed.

“How did this happen?” Ruby asked. “I thought you and Gary were going through a dry spell. It is Gary’s isn’t it?”

Belle shot her an unamused look. As much as she wished to the contrary, she had no doubt who this baby’s father was. That was the worst part.

“Yeah well you stop for one drink of water and this happens, doesn’t it?”

“Shit, Belle, I’m sorry,” Ruby commiserated. “Are you gonna tell him?”

“No,” Belle said shaking her head.

“You have to tell him,” Ruby replied. “I know Gary is dumber than a box of rocks but even he’s going to eventually realize his wife is pregnant.”

“Well I guess I’ll figure that out when the time comes,” Belle said, snatching the pregnancy test back from Ruby and stuffing it back in to her pocket. “Right now I need to worry about getting eggs to table 7.”

“Fine!” Ruby conceded, following Belle out of the bathroom. “But we’re not done talking about _your_ eggs.”

They made their way down the short hallway and back to the kitchen where a harried looking Granny was dressing down their fellow waitress, Ariel.

“If you can’t be on time, don’t bother coming in to work at all!”

Ariel nodded, slipping her jacket off and hanging it on the coat rack by the back door before tying on her apron.

“I’m sorry, Granny,” she said. “It won’t happen again.”

“You see that it doesn’t,” Granny said decisively before spinning around to face Ruby and Belle. “And how nice of you two to join us! I was about to make the guests serve themselves potluck style. Might as well open a buffet if all my waitresses spend their time gossiping in the bathroom instead of working.”

“Sorry, Granny,” they both mumbled, returning to work. Ruby picked up a pot of coffee, heading through the door to the dining room as Belle grabbed table 7’s scrambled eggs.

“Oh, shit,” Ruby hissed, quickly ducking back in to the kitchen and nearly knocking the plate from Belle’s hands.

“What’s wrong?” Belle asked, craning her neck to see around her friend.

“ _He’s_ here,” Ruby said, her tone of voice leaving no question of who she was talking about. “He owns every goddamn business in town. Why does he have to come harass this one every morning?”

“Because we’re the only one of his businesses with decent coffee?” Belle offered. Ruby just rolled her eyes.

“Look, I know you’re having the shittiest morning ever and this will only make it a thousand times worse, but can you take his table? I’m a little short on the rent this month and I know he’ll ask me about it.”

“Sure,” Belle said with a sigh. He was the last person she wanted to see this morning, but she knew how badly Ruby reacted to the man. She might end up spilling hot coffee down his front and getting herself evicted.

“You’re a saint,” Ruby said, squeezing her arm. “I owe you one.”

“It’s fine,” Belle said with a shake of her head. “At least he tips well.”

“He’d have to to get anyone to put up with him,” Ruby spat. “The only good thing about the man is his money.”

Belle couldn’t find it in her to disagree with Ruby for once and set off into the dining room, her heart pounding.

Sure enough Mr. Gold was sitting at his usual table, a booth in the front corner next to the window that afforded him a perfect view of the street and all the townspeople coming and going from the diner. He cut an imposing figure, all sharp edges in his dark three-piece suit. A black storm cloud perched in the center of the otherwise cheerful diner. He was an anachronism. He didn’t belong. Belle suspected he liked it that way.

She dropped off Leroy’s eggs and then approached Mr. Gold’s table on unsteady legs, her stomach beginning to roil uncomfortably. The sunlight from the large bay window picked up the silver in his hair, glinting and shining. She imagined running her hands through it, of having him above her, the comforting weight of him pressing against her, his mouth against her skin.

Belle shook her head, trying to dispel the unwanted thoughts.

She arrived at the table, waiting for him to acknowledge her presence. She wasn’t quite sure what to say to him.

“Mrs. Stone,” he said coolly, looking down at his menu and not even giving her the benefit of his full attention.

“Mr. Gold,” she said just as coolly. “What can I get you this morning?”

“Coffee,” he said. “Black. Eggs over easy, bacon, and…” he trailed off, finally looking up at her. “God, you look dreadful.”

Belle huffed out a laugh, too worn down this morning to feel any indignation at the insult. “Gee, thanks.”

He must have realized what he’d said a moment too late, his eyes bulging before he schooled his features in to their usual polite disinterest.

“I didn’t…” he shook his head. “I didn’t mean you look bad, just upset. Are you alright?”

He seemed genuinely concerned, his voice soft, one hand coming to lie over hers where it rested on his table. Belle’s hand prickled at the contact and she snatched it away, a brief look of hurt crossing Gold’s eyes before he folded his own hands in his lap.

“Fine,” she said with a stiff nod of her head. “Just one of those mornings.”

“Yes,” he said and Belle wasn’t sure if he was agreeing with her or just looking to fill the awkward silence.

“How is Neal?” she asked, casting around for some neutral subject.

“He’s doing well,” Gold said, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth as it always did when he spoke about his son. “Baseball tryouts are this week. Fingers crossed he makes the varsity team.”

Belle just nodded.

“And Mrs. Gold?” she asked.

Mr. Gold’s eyes turned harder at her question, the soft smile fading from his lips.

“Fine,” he said stiffly. “And how is Mr. Stone?”

Belle winced. She supposed she deserved that.

“He’s fine too.”

“Well, wonderful,” Gold said, looking back down at his menu. Belle rather thought he was avoiding her gaze. “Now that we’ve established how fine everyone is, perhaps you can finish taking my order.”

“Sure thing,” Belle said with a nod, scribbling down the rest of Mr. Gold’s breakfast order before scurrying back to the kitchen.

Belle let out a deep breath as soon as she was out of the dining room, leaning back against the wall. She felt as though she’d just run a marathon, out of breath and exhausted.

“I owe you,” Ruby whispered as she swanned back out of the kitchen to serve another table, giving Mr. Gold’s a wide berth.

Her respite was short lived. It was a matter of moments before Mr. Gold’s order was up and she was forced into his presence once more.

“Here you are,” she said, dropping the plate down on the table in front of him with a thunk. Her vision was swimming, her skin clammy. She knew Mr. Gold’s presence in the diner wasn’t the direct cause of her nausea, but it felt better to blame him for it.

Gold looked up at her, his brows drawn close over his dark eyes, the morning light picking up flecks of gold in them. They looked concerned, those eyes. They had no right to.

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” he asked. His voice sounded as though it was coming from far away, Belle’s blood pounding in her ears. “Belle?”

The way he said her name, so soft, barely a whisper, was the last straw.

“We’ve already ascertained that everyone is fine,” Belle spat before clamping her mouth shut. The smell of the bacon and the eggs, the slight burn of the coffee grounds, and the antiseptic scent of the soap they used to clean the kitchen all swirled together, the stench suddenly overpowering. Her stomach rebelled and Belle dropped the coffee pot she’d been holding to refill Mr. Gold’s cup, turning and running for the bathroom, the sound of the pot smashing on the ground chasing her down the hall.

After emptying the contents of her stomach, Belle rinsed out her mouth at the faucet giving her reflection in the mirror a critical eye. Mr. Gold was right. She did look dreadful.

She sighed, wetting a paper towel and pressing it against the back of her neck, under her ponytail. She was going to have to figure out something to combat the morning sickness. She wouldn’t be raking in the tips if she had to run to the bathroom every five minutes. No one wanted a violently ill waitress.

Once she was sure she wasn’t going to be sick again, Belle straightened up and headed back in to the diner. Either Ruby or Ariel had already cleaned up the coffee she’d spilled and Belle was surprised to see Mr. Gold still at the table.

He glanced up at her as she stopped by with his check, picking up his empty plate.

Mrs. Stone,” he said, his voice low enough that he wouldn’t be overheard. “If you’d be so kind, might you pay a visit to my shop when you leave work this afternoon.”

Belle knew it wasn’t a request. She could tell by the steely look in his eyes and the firm set of his jaw. Mr. Gold wasn't a man who was used to being told no and Belle had never been good at voicing that particular word anyway. 

“Okay,” she agreed.

Gold took out his wallet, removing several crisp bills and placing them on top of the check.

“Keep the change,” he said, leveling her with one final, loaded look before gathering up his cane and leaving.

Belle scooped up the cash he’d left on the table. A $20 tip on a $6 meal.

She pocketed the money, guilt settling in her gut.

This was bad. This was so bad.


	2. Chapter 2

Belle’s shift ended at 3:00 but she loitered around outside Granny’s chatting with Ariel for a full twenty minutes trying to delay the inevitable.

“So do you think you could help me with my dating profile?” Ariel asked. “We could make like a girls night of it. Have some wine, some cheese, oh, I could make sushi!”

“Yeah,” Belle agreed with the sobering realization that she wouldn’t be able to have wine or sushi any time soon. “Get Ruby in on this and we’ll really come up with something interesting.”

Ariel rolled her eyes. “I’m not entirely sure I trust what Ruby would come up with. But so far all I have is ‘Flirty and fun marine animal enthusiast looking for a whale of a time’.”

Belle winced. “I’m not sure what exactly you’ll be attracting with that one, babe. Might need to watch out for sharks.”

“Hmm,” Ariel looked pensive, tapping her pointer finger against her chin. “What about ‘enthusiastic swimmers only’?”

Belle snorted. “Oh, God honey, no.”

“Yeah,” Ariel agreed, looking dejected. “That doesn’t work either, does it?”

“We’ll figure something out,” Belle said, patting her friend on the shoulder. “Before you know it, you’ll be beating the boys off with a stick.”

Ariel twirled one lock of long red hair around her finger, her eyes wide.

“Why would I beat someone with a stick? Do you think the men I meet on a dating app might be dangerous?”

Belle shook her head at her far too literal friend. “It’s an expression. It’s fine, we’ll figure it out.”

She glanced across the street, the open sign prominently displayed in the window of Mr. Gold Pawnbroker and Antiquities Dealer, but saw no other signs of life coming from the shop. Belle supposed she couldn’t put this off forever.

Nevertheless, her feet felt like lead as she said her goodbyes to Ariel and dragged herself across the street to the shop. It seemed to take all her strength to push open the door and walk inside. She was about to have a conversation she could have never imagined having.

The shop was dark after the bright sunshine outside and it took Belle’s eyes a moment to adjust. She stood just inside the doorway, enjoying the dim, still, coolness. The diner was always bright and loud and frantic, the kitchen hot from the stove and the grill and the air saturated with grease and the smells of sizzling food. The shop was its antithesis; so quiet Belle could hear the ticking of every individual clock hung on the walls. The air smelled of wood polish and old books and somehow strangely _him_. Or perhaps it was the other way around and he smelled like his shop. Either way it sent a shiver down Belle’s spine that wasn’t entirely unpleasant regardless of the reason she was here.

Once her eyes had adjusted, Belle took a few steps forward, standing awkwardly in the middle of the store. For a moment she wondered if he’d stepped out and she was all alone here. She almost hoped it was the case, anything to delay this conversation. But a moment later, the curtain to the back of the shop parted and Gold stepped through, his gold handled cane clicking gently against the polished wooden floorboards.

“Ah, Mrs. Stone. You came,” he said, walking forward to stand next to one of the gleaming display cases filled with trinkets Belle could never hope to afford. He braced his free hand against the glass paneled top, his wedding ring winking in the light. Belle stared at it for a long moment, feeling like she might be sick again.

“I said I would,” she said by way of answer.

Gold cleared his throat, slipping his left hand into his pocket and blocking her view of the offending piece of jewelry. She twisted her own wedding ring, just a simple silver band with no further adornment, around her finger, the sick feeling intensifying.

“Yes and we both know you never break a promise,” he said.

His tone is light, friendly even, but the words slice through Belle, every one of them a painful reminder of a time she’d thought was behind her.

Her throat seemed to close up, leaving her speechless and desperate to leave the confines of the shop.

“Now,” Mr. Gold continued, as if he didn’t notice the impact of his words. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”

Belle swallowed convulsively. God, he knew. Somehow he already knew.

“No,” she said with a shake of her head. She pulled nervously at her skirt, shifting from foot to foot, but she didn’t break eye contact with him.

Gold mirrored her, shaking his head as well.

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” It was a statement more than a question. 

“No,” she lied through her teeth.

“Yes you are,” Gold countered with a sigh. “You look exactly like Milah did fifteen years ago. Trust me, I’m well acquainted with the look on a woman’s face when she’s unexpectedly and unhappily pregnant with my child.”

She tried not to let that sting, being compared to Milah was never a good thing as far as Gold was concerned.

“No,” Belle repeated again, backing away.

“Belle,” he said with another weary shake of his head. “Let me help you. You know I’ll take full responsibility…”

“No,” Belle interjected. “I mean yes, I am pregnant, but it’s not yours.”

That brought Gold up short.

“No?” he said. “How can you be sure?”

“Because I know, okay?” she said. “I was always careful with you. This happened after…us.”

It felt wrong to refer to them as an “us”. They never really had been. He had a wife. She had a husband. They were each of them one half of something else, but never anything together.

“I got drunk,” she continued, not entirely sure why she was telling him any of this. “I do stupid things when I drink, like sleep with my husband.”

Gold raised a hand to stop her rambling, turning to stare down at the objects in his display case as if he couldn't bear to look at her a moment longer.

“I don’t need to know the particulars, thank you.”

Belle crossed her arms against her chest defensively. Who was he to act hurt or betrayed? 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” she demanded. “For everything to go back to the way it was, for me to stay with Gary?”

Gold rounded on her, eyes flashing.

“Is that what you think?”

“What else should I think?” she demanded. “You had your midlife crisis and it ended. What more is there to the story?”

He stared at her for a long moment, his face unreadable. God she wanted to slap him. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to run away from this stupid, small town and never see it or anyone in it ever again.

When it became clear Gold wasn’t going to answer her question, she gave a stiff nod. As always, his silence was all the answer she needed.

“Well, the baby’s not yours. You’re off the hook.”

Gold huffed, leaning back against the display case, his wedding ring once again in her line of sight, mocking her.  

“Wonderful,” he said with a sigh. “I suppose there’s nothing left for us to discuss then.”

“Nope,” Belle replied. “I guess there’s not.”

She turned toward the door. She still had 2 hours before Gary would be home from work. Plenty of time to cry in private. Perhaps by the time 5:30 rolled around she’d even have plastered the fake smile back on her face so he’d know just how goddamned happy she was.

But Gold couldn’t let her go without throwing one more barb her way.

“Congratulations on your growing family, Mrs. Stone.”

“Fuck you, Gold” she said without looking back, the door slamming closed behind her.

* * *

 

She stormed home, her temper outweighing her despondency for the moment. Once she’d entered her crappy one bedroom apartment, pacing the floor of the small living room one too many times, Belle inevitably found herself in the kitchen, elbow deep in flour.

Baking had long been her respite in this world. Her mother had taught her to bake a pie when she was four years old and their kitchen had been their safe haven from Moe French’s drunken temper and swinging fists. Pie and books, that was the legacy Colette French had left her daughter, a sweet tooth and a craving for the written word. There were worse things to be remembered for, Belle imagined.

She dropped a hand to her stomach, still blessedly flat despite the baby growing within. Despite her mother’s example, she didn’t have the first idea of how to raise a baby or even how she’d be raising this baby at all. With a shake of her head she returned to her pie, rolling out the dough for the crust with her rolling pin.

Sugar and butter and flour, those were tangible things she could take and manipulate in to something concrete. That was all she could focus on for the moment.

By the time Gary stumbled home she was pulling a lemon-cherry pie hot out of the oven.

“Hey, babe,” he said, slapping her on the bottom on his way to the fridge. “That for me?”

He pulled a beer out of the fridge, popping it open with the bottle cap opener magnet stuck to the side.

“Who else would it be for?” Belle asked by way of reply. She placed the pie on the counter to cool, admiring her handiwork. It was a simple recipe, but one of her best.

“See that’s why I love you,” Gary said, scooting up behind her and placing one hand on her hip, bending to nuzzle his face against her neck. “Always taking care of me.”

He pulled away, taking another swig of beer before asking the inevitable question.

“How’d we do today?”

Belle reached in to her pocket, dutifully handing over the day’s tips. It had been the same for years now. She spent all day on her feet slaving away at the diner and Gary pocketed the proceeds.

“Good haul today,” he said approvingly, tucking the cash into his shirt pocket. “But maybe you could think about picking up some extra shifts. Shit’s so expensive these days.”

He downed the last of his beer, tossing the empty bottle into the trashcan in the corner with a crash. Belle flinched at the noise in spite of herself.

“We’re out of beer,” Gary said, patting her on the backside once again. “I’m gonna go out and get some. Might stop by the Rabbit Hole to catch the end of the game. No need to wait up.”

He planted a wet kiss against her cheek before grabbing his jacket and heading back out into the night.

Belle let out a sigh of relief once he was gone, slicing herself a piece of the pie and settling on to the sofa with a book. She didn’t have it so bad, after all. Gary was absent and callous and controlling but he’d never hit her. And on the nights he went out drinking with his friends she had the whole apartment to herself. It wasn’t the ideal situation to bring a child into, but she didn’t have any other options. She couldn’t afford to leave Gary now, that much was certain.

Belle leaned back against the couch cushions, taking a bite of the pie and savoring the tartness of the cherries and the sour lemon along with the sweetness of the sugared crust. Life could be tart and sour, but it could be sweet too. There’d been moments that were so sweet and lovely she could die. She needed to find more of that sweet. Maybe she didn’t want this baby exactly, but she was stuck with it. She had to find some sweetness for it like her mother had always done for her. It was only fair.


	3. Chapter 3

Belle’s first doctor’s appointment was a week later and she clutched her purse in her lap as she glanced around the waiting room nervously.

She’d had to request the morning off in order to make it to the appointment and Granny had given her a suspicious look. In the past week she’d picked up as many shifts as she could, so requesting a morning shift off was a deviation from the norm. She’d told Granny she was going to the dentist to take care of a toothache and she hoped no one she knew would spot her at the gynecologist’s office.

She was being silly of course. She could just be there for a routine yearly exam. It’s not as though she had a blinking neon sign above her head declaring that she was pregnant, no matter how much it felt like it.

Belle ran a hand over her face, wishing she could scream without drawing the attention of the other women in the waiting room. She couldn’t believe her stupidity.

She had been on the pill from the age of 17. For nine years, ever since she started dating Gary her junior year of high school, she’d dutifully taken her birth control and in all that time she’d never been in this position.

But one weekend, one stupid, ill-advised weekend, she’d forgotten to take it. And now she was pregnant, trapped in a marriage she’d long wanted to escape from, and having the worst possible morning sickness to add insult to injury.

She sat back in the marled blue waiting room chair, glancing around at the other patients. The woman three seats down from her was cradling a newborn in her arms, softly humming to the fussing baby. Belle watched them for a moment, trying to picture herself similarly. It wasn’t that she had anything against children, really. In theory, she would love to be a mother. When she was younger she’d thought for certain she would be. But when she was younger she also thought she’d live a life first, something more than twelve hour shifts at the diner, a small apartment, and a husband who had no idea that she had any dreams much less what they were. She’d never created anything, never found her calling, and never traveled much beyond the borders of Storybrooke, Maine. She had failed her younger self and now she was going to bring a baby into the world, someone who would depend on her when she could barely take care of herself. She was certain to fail them too.

She turned away from the serene picture of mother and baby, looking instead to the woman opposite her. She was young, blonde and looked to be about nine months pregnant, her t-shirt stretched tight over her swollen stomach and an air of utter exhaustion about her.

She caught Belle’s eye, giving her a weary half smile that Belle returned before turning her attention back to her hands clasped on her lap.

“Belle, right?” the woman asked, calling Belle’s attention back to her.

At Belle’s puzzled look, she continued. “I’m Ashley Boyd. I was a couple years behind you at Storybrooke High.”

“Oh,” Belle said, the name sounding vaguely familiar. “Of course. Nice to see you again. And congratulations.”

She motioned at Ashley’s belly and the girl dropped a hand to caress it.

“Yeah,” she said, a dreamy look crossing her face. “Not exactly planned, but I’m excited. It’s a girl.”

“Ah,” Belle said, realizing she’d given no thought so far to the sex of her baby. To her it didn’t much matter though she was sure Gary would want a boy, if she ever told him she was pregnant that is

“You’re married to Gary Stone, aren’t you?” Ashley asked, and Belle nodded. “God you two were the cutest couple in high school. I was always kind of jealous of you guys. You seemed so perfect.”

Belle couldn’t help the sarcastic little laugh that bubbled up from her throat, quickly masking it with a cough. Ashley didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m serious,” she continued. “He was the big man on campus, and you were this gorgeous bookworm valedictorian, it was like something out of a Taylor Swift song. You were amazing and always so nice to everyone.”

Tears stung Belle’s eyes at the memory of that girl, the one who was bold and kind and a little messy. She missed her.

“Mrs. Stone?” the nurse called, providing a blessed interruption to the conversation.

“That’s me,” Belle said, excusing herself.

After she was weighed and her vitals and blood taken, Belle found herself in a tiny exam room with an ultrasound technician. The woman squeezed a small amount of gel on her abdomen and used a camera to show her her baby. She was definitely pregnant, the little bean sized thing growing in her uterus confirmation of the fact.

She could feel the tears starting as she stared at the image on the screen and the technician gave her a big smile.

“Tears are totally normal,” she said pleasantly. “I’ll give you a moment and then the doctor will be in to speak with you.”

Belle took a deep breath once the woman was gone, blowing it out of her nose and trying to calm herself. She hadn’t realized that up until this moment she’d been hoping the home test had been wrong. She sat up on the exam table, wrinkling the thin paper sheet beneath her fingertips. What was she going to do? 

“Mrs. Stone!” Dr. Whale said, entering the room jovially. “Congratu…”

“Let me stop you right there,” Belle interrupted. “I know I’m supposed to be happy about this, and I really, really want to be, but right now I’m not. So if you could just not tell me congratulations, that would be great.”

The look on Dr. Whale’s face changed dramatically.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Stone,” he said, crossing his arms. “If you’d like to explore your options, I can refer you to a clinic that handles abortions.”

“No,” Belle said. “I’m keeping it. I’m just not really excited and I don’t want to feel like a bad person or a bad mother every time I come in for a check up. So I thought you should know and act accordingly.”

Whale nodded. “Fair enough. Do you have any questions or concerns?”

Belle took a deep breath, preparing to ask the question that had haunted her since she took the home pregnancy test.

“Can you tell me how far along I am?”

“Sure,” Whale said. “Judging from the date of your last period and the ultrasound, I’d say right at about 9 weeks.”

Belle bit her lip, twisting her wedding ring around her finger compulsively.

“So could you tell when the baby might have been conceived exactly?”

Whale raised an eyebrow but otherwise gave no indication that her question was odd.

“Um, well, every woman’s cycle is different so it can be difficult to pinpoint exactly. But I’d say sometime around the week of the 12th of February. I’m afraid I probably couldn’t get much more accurate than that.”

“Oh,” Belle said, feeling numb.

“Not an unpopular time of year to make a baby,” Whale continued. “What with Valentine’s Day and all.”

“Sure,” Belle replied. She’d spent her Valentine’s Day evening working the dinner shift at the diner and then gone home to find Gary passed out on the couch. February 12th however, that had been a different story.

Whale talked to her about prenatal vitamins and gave her a list of foods to avoid as well as a prescription for anti-nausea medicine before telling her he’d see her again in a month. Belle hurriedly got dressed and headed out, stopping at the reception desk to make her next appointment. She had to run home and shower before getting to the diner for the dinner shift at 3:00.

She slipped out of the office suite, still trying to be as unnoticeable as possible, when she bumped in to someone as the door swung open.

“Watch yourself,” the woman snapped. Belle looked up to see Milah Gold glaring at her, her nose wrinkled up as though she’d just smelled something foul.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Gold,” she said. The other woman just rolled her eyes, pushing past Belle and in to the doctor’s office while Belle’s heart hammered in her chest.

* * *

It was a relief to get to work that afternoon. She typically took the morning shift, but as she’d been unable to work that morning she’d decided to take the evening. She was also trying to pick up more shifts overall. An idea had bloomed in the back of Belle’s mind the moment she’d seen the little bean on the ultrasound, one that made her hopeful yet slightly nauseous at the same time. She’d need more money to execute it.

It was a Monday night and the diner was slow which meant slow tips as well. Belle took a break around 7:00, slipping in to the hallway that led to the bathrooms. She counted out the cash she’d managed to accumulate in her apron pocket, separating out the bills, mostly ones, and felt her heart sink. This wasn’t a great start on her plan.

She heard the door to the diner open, heralding new customers and she wadded the cash back up, thrusting it into her skirt pocket and pulling her notepad out to take orders. She came up short when she saw who had entered.

Mr. Gold and his wife were seating themselves at one of the booths that lined the wall of the diner, Mrs. Gold looking around with a critical eye.

“I haven’t been here in years, Maxwell, and it certainly hasn’t improved in the interim. Why are you so fond of this place again?” Belle overheard as she approached the table.

“I don’t require cloth napkins and real silver as long as the food is decent,” Gold returned, looking down at his menu.

“Yes, you always did like to slum,” Milah said, casting an eye at Belle as she arrived at the table.

“Welcome to Granny’s,” she said dutifully. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“We’ve only just sat down,” Milah snapped. “Give us a moment.”

“Of course,” Belle said, replacing her notepad in her apron pocket. “I’ll just get you a couple of waters while you decide.”

She retreated to the bar where Ariel was serving drinks to a few of the miners who’d come in after work. Her hair was tied back in a high ponytail, her cheeks flushed as she scurried back and forth with pints of beer and shots of whiskey. She pulled up short when she saw Belle, wiping her hands on a dish towel before throwing it over her shoulder.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I just need two waters, please.”

Ariel grabbed two glasses, filling them with ice water and handing them back to Belle.

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen Mr. Gold’s wife,” she whispered. “Doesn’t she spend a lot of time traveling?”

Belle shrugged. “We’re lucky enough to have her in here tonight.”

Ariel narrowed her eyes. “You don’t like her? I guess she and Gold are a good match then.”

“Yoo-hoo, waitress!” Milah called from across the diner. “We’re ready now.”

Belle shot Ariel a look of “I-told-you-so” before plastering a smile back on her face.

“Yes, ma’am,” she greeted Milah, putting pen to notepad.

“The service here is just impeccable,” Milah huffed, giving Belle the once over.

“Milah, please just order your food from the girl,” Gold said wearily.

Belle blanched at being called a girl. Standing here in her waitress uniform and ponytail compared to Milah’s designer dress and perfectly coifed hair made her feel young and naïve enough. She’d had an affair with a married man and here he was basically calling her a child in front of his wife. She’d never felt so stupid.

Milah gave Gold a simpering smile before turning back to Belle.

“I’ll have the chef’s salad, hold the chicken and the eggs.”

“So you just want lettuce and tomatoes then?” Belle clarified.

“And the cucumber, look alive, girl.”

“Great,” Belle said. “And for you?” she asked Gold.

“Burger,” he said succinctly. “Extra pickles.”

“Really? With your cholesterol?” Milah asked before turning to Belle. “Bring him a salad instead of fries.”

“Is that what you want?”

Gold looked up at her, the look in his eyes completely unreadable. She was suddenly very aware that the last time she’d spoke to him she’d told him to fuck himself.

“That’s fine,” he said finally.

Milah smiled at him, reaching across the table to take his hand. Belle almost thought she saw him wince.

“Anything to drink?” she asked after jotting down their order.

“Just bring a bottle of white wine,” Milah said, not bothering to look at her.

Belle put their order in, cursing the fact that the diner wasn’t busier for more than just the lack of tips. She couldn’t distract herself with other tables and found her eyes constantly drawn to Gold and his wife.

She didn’t know Milah well. She’d just seen her around town and had the occasional run in with her. Gold hadn’t mentioned her much during their time together for obvious reasons. She was beautiful, tall and thin with thick dark hair and blue eyes. She certainly didn’t look like the type of woman men strayed from. But, then again, Gary was as classically handsome as they came. Clearly looks weren’t everything.

Milah raised her hand, snapping at her to get her attention and Belle had to suppress an eye roll. There was a special place in hell for people who were rude to wait staff.

“Took you long enough,” Milah said as Belle arrived at the table. She’d moved from her seat across from Gold and was now sitting next to him on his bench. She had one hand entwined with his, her head resting on his shoulder. Belle noticed the wine bottle was almost depleted though Milah’s salad looked like it had barely been touched.

“What can I get you?” she asked.

“My husband can’t get enough of your pie,” Milah said.

Belle wasn’t sure if Milah knew something or if the double entendre was unintentional. Either way she couldn’t stop the blush creeping up her neck.

“He raves about them constantly,” Milah continued, trailing her hand up Gold’s arm. “What’s your special today?”

“Banana cream,” Belle answered.

Milah pulled a face. “Ick, I loathe banana.”

“We also have cherry, pecan, and chocolate marshmallow tonight if any of those appeal to you.”

Milah turned to Gold. “You’re the expert on Belle’s pies, darling. What would you choose?”

Gold was clearly uncomfortable but masking it well. He gave Belle an apologetic look.

“Cherry,” he said.

“Of course,” Milah said, planting a kiss on Gold’s cheek. “One slice of cherry pie it is then, dear. Thank you.”

Belle turned to fetch the pie but not before hearing Milah’s stage whisper.

“Now I know why you like this place so much. She’s exactly your type isn’t she? Looks like me 10 years ago.”

Belle quickened her pace to the kitchen, wanting to stay there and never come out again. There were so many emotions choking her she couldn’t rightly sort them. Guilt certainly, embarrassment too, a fair amount of anger and something altogether foreign. Perhaps it was jealousy. But that was an emotion she had no right to feel at all.

In the end Milah only took one bite of the pie anyway, declaring it to be decent but nothing special and the Gold’s left, Milah practically draping herself across her husband as he kept a steadying hand on her lower back.

As Belle watched them leave she decided on tomorrow’s special.

Green With Envy Peppermint Pie.

* * *

It was almost midnight by the time Belle had ended her shift, cleaned up, and prepped everything in the kitchen for the next day’s pies. Her feet were aching and she was so exhausted it was a miracle she was still standing upright. Luckily the anti-nausea medicine Dr. Whale had prescribed seemed to be keeping up its end of the bargain.

She let out a wide yawn, locking the diner behind her and starting the nearly a mile walk back to her apartment. If only Gary would let her take the car once in a while, it’d make things much easier. She couldn’t imagine taking this walk after a long day on her feet at nine months pregnant.

Hopefully she wouldn’t have to imagine.

She pulled out her tips for the night. The tip from the Gold's and a late night table of boys from the cannery had given her a bit more cushion. She separated out fifteen dollars, as much as she thought she could get away with, and tucked it into her bra. The rest went back in to her pocket.

If she could squirrel away just a few dollars from every shift, maybe she could save up enough to do…something.

It was early April and there was still a chill in the air, the night wind icy against her cheeks. Belle wrapped her sweater around herself, wishing she’d worn a coat.

Her worn in white tennis shoes slapped along the pavement and she stared down at them in disgust. There was a time when Belle had favored heels, brightly colored confections with wedges, block heels, and stilettos. They weren’t practical for long hours at the diner though and she’d given them up. The only time she bought shoes these days was to replace her worn out Keds with a new pair. It was just another piece of herself she’d lost somewhere along the way. For a moment she entertained the thought of buying a pair of gorgeous heels just to wear around the house but she shut that down quickly. Gary would wonder where they money had come from. 

She’d only gone a block when she heard the purr of an engine behind her, a rare enough thing to find a car out this late in Storybrooke. It wasn’t as though there was much in the way of nightlife.

She glanced over her shoulder and sighed when she caught sight of Mr. Gold’s gleaming Cadillac, utterly pristine, reflecting the glow of the passing streetlights. The car slowed to keep pace with her walking and the dark tinted driver’s window rolled down revealing the man in question.

“Mrs. Stone, can I give you a ride home?” he asked, but Belle kept walking.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Not much longer to go.”

“I know where you live,” Gold countered. “It’s across town and it’s freezing out. Please.”

Belle stopped, weighing her options. She could get in the car with Mr. Gold, a choice that had only ever led to bad decisions on her part, or she could continue to walk home alone in the cold.

In the end, her sore feet won out.

Without a word she rounded the Cadillac, opening the passenger side door and slipping inside. It was warm, the heated seats doing more for her aching limbs than anything else ever could. She held her hands up to the heating vent gratefully.

Gold put the car into drive and they moved forward slowly down Main Street. They were quiet for the first few blocks until Gold broke the silence.

“I want to apologize for Milah’s behavior tonight,” he said finally. “She’s never been very considerate of other people. It gets worse when she drinks.”

Belle grunted a noise of acknowledgment. She wasn’t disposed to feel charitable toward him at the moment.

“Is that why you were waiting for me? To apologize?”

“I wasn’t waiting,” Gold said, glancing her way then back to the road. “Just going for a drive to clear my head.”

“Any particular reason it needed clearing?” she asked, watching him closely in the darkness. The lights from his dashboard cast a greenish glow across his skin. He looked otherworldly for a moment, like some beautiful, terrible creature from a children’s story.

“I have to choose just one?” he said, his lips quirking up in a smile. “I suppose that would be Milah, trying to divine what she’s after at the moment. She hasn’t set foot in Granny’s Diner in a decade but suddenly wanted to go tonight.”

Belle’s breath caught in her throat, her heart beating faster. Milah showing up tonight, her pointed barbs at Belle, did she know something? If it became public knowledge Gary would find out and…

“Do you think she suspects…” she trailed off, unsure of how to put into words what had happened between them.

Gold shook his head. “If she knew she’d have wasted no time in lording it over me. She’d have to recover from the shock of any woman having interest in me first.”

Belle raised an eyebrow. “She certainly looked interested in you tonight.”

Gold shook his head. “Milah only shows affection when she wants something, she just hasn’t asked for it yet. For a long time it worked, but I’ve wizened up to her game.”

Gold pulled in to the parking lot outside Belle’s apartment building, putting the car into park, but she made no move to get out. They sat there is silence for a moment, no sound but the hum of the engine, the quiet noises of the night around them.

“So you’re not happy,” she asked finally, voicing a question she had never before dared to ask. “With her?”

Gold stared down at the steering wheel, his mouth flattened into a straight line.

“No,” he said finally. “And I don’t think we ever were. Not truly.”

“Then why did you marry her?”

Gold snorted though Belle wasn’t sure there was anything funny in her question.

“Because she was pregnant,” he answered simply. “And I wanted to do the right thing. And Neal, well, he’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I could never regret him.”

Belle nodded hoping she would feel the same way about her own child, hoping they would be enough.

“Why did you marry Gary?” he asked, turning to face her on the bench seat.

Belle shrugged. There were reasons enough. She’d been young and naïve. She’d thought he loved her and she wanted to escape her father’s house by any means necessary. She hadn’t realized at the time she’d be trading one tyrant for another.

“Because I thought we wanted the same things,” she said, settling on the most prominent reason. “He told me that we would travel and I could go to culinary school to become a real pastry chef and one day we’d open our own patisserie. He pretended to care about my dreams for so long that by the time I realized he didn’t, I was in too deep.”

“Then why do you stay?” his words were soft. It would have been easy to pretend she hadn’t heard him, but she didn’t.

“Because I’m pregnant,” she said with a wry smile.

Gold inclined his head, the single streetlight illuminating the parking lot reflected off the silver in his hair and the stubble on his cheeks. He was so beautiful and even though she was angry with him for so much, she was still drawn to him too. They were both a little broken, worn down by life and this town and it had brought them together for a few stolen moments of beauty.

“What happened between us was a mistake.”

His voice disrupted her train of thought, pouring ice water on her fond recollections.

“What? All six times?” she said with a fair amount of sarcasm. “I’m sorry, did you repeatedly trip and fall face first into my vagina?”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the things I’ve said and the way I’ve treated you. You’re brilliant and beautiful and you deserve more than I could ever give you.”

“I don’t feel very brilliant or beautiful,” she said. “Nobody ever notices me that way. Not anymore.”

She could feel the tears pricking her eyes and she stared up at the roof of the Cadillac, willing them not to fall.

“It’s been a day,” she said, still looking up at the roof.

“Yeah,” Gold agreed.

It had been a hell of a day, from her appointment that morning to work to now. The reminder of the girl she’d once been, not recognizing the woman she’d become, it had all become too much. She wanted something secret, something that was hers, something to hold close in the middle of the night to keep her from completely dissolving into the gray background of her life. He had ended whatever was between them but he was here now and she just wanted to feel _something_.

She leaned forward, breaching the gap between them on the bench seat of his Cadillac. She took one, stuttered breath before pressing her lips against his. Gold didn’t hesitate, kissing her back with a sigh, tension leaking from his body as he melted in to her.

He cupped her cheeks, pushing his hands into her hair, mussing her ponytail and tilting her face up so he could kiss her more deeply.

Her tongue pushed into his mouth, twining with his as his end of the day stubble rasped against her chin. He tasted like iced tea and peppermint and she suddenly knew she’d picked the right flavor for tomorrow’s pie, even subconsciously.

His hands trailed down her neck, his fingers stroking lightly against her flesh, his touch somehow restrained. She wanted more of him. She wanted all of him. She wanted to have him right here in his car in the parking lot of her apartment where her no good, lousy husband was probably passed out drunk. She wanted to take her week’s tips and buy a bus ticket out of town and never look back but for now she would take Gold’s mouth and his hands and his cock and feel good for a few stolen moments.

Without another thought she straddled him, reaching down to grab the lever to recline his seat back and pushing him down flat. Gold gripped on to her hips, never breaking the kiss.

She ran her hands up his chest, over the silk fabric of his shirt, feeling the heat of him seeping through his clothes. She could feel him between her thighs, hard for her already. She felt powerful and wanted and…

He pulled back, holding a hand up to stop her from following.

“We can’t do this now,” he said, running one hand down her back, the other still holding her face. “I’m sorry, Belle. We can’t.”

Belle blinked, pulling back. And goddammit she just wanted to feel something even if it was the worst possible choice she could make.

He was still looking at her like at any moment something might shatter irreparably and she couldn’t stand it anymore.

Without another word, she grabbed her bag and ran inside, not even bothering to slam the passenger side door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know this fic has seemed a little bleak to some people and I promise it will get better, but here's one last rough one. Trigger warning for domestic violence.

Mornings in Storybrooke never changed much, each day a carbon copy of the one before. Dawn broke over the sleepy town just like always, illuminating the broken clock tower over the boarded up library that had stood closed since head librarian Colette French’s death 8 years prior. Just like the hands on the clock face, frozen at 8:15 for as long as anyone could remember, the town itself seemed frozen in time. The shops on Main Street opened for the day, workers headed off to the granite quarry and the cannery, and fisherman prepped their boats on the docks.

And every morning at Granny’s Diner, Belle would set out the day’s pie selections in the glass display case, scrawling the special across a chalkboard reserved for that purpose.

Despite working until midnight, she was up and dressed at the crack of dawn. She trudged to work in the pale morning light, shivering in her thin jacket. Ruby had purchased her a book on pregnancy that she’d hoarded away behind the flour in Granny’s kitchen to hide from Gary, and her first quick skim of it had told her that tiredness was a common symptom in the first trimester. But even if she hadn’t been pregnant she would have been tired from spending every spare moment at the diner.

The one good side effect of her exhaustion was that it gave her less time to think. She spent the morning numbly going through the motions, her brain barely awake enough to count out appropriate change for her customers let alone focus on the stupid thing she’d done the night before.

And kissing Mr. Gold definitely qualified as a stupid thing. For Christ’s sake, the man had broken up with her weeks ago. Now he’d flat out rejected her advances. Any interest he’d had in her had clearly run its course. She just wished he wouldn’t run so hot and cold. She never knew where she stood with him. One moment he was flaunting his wife in front of her at the diner and the next he was apologizing and kindly offering her a ride home.

She’d told him the baby wasn’t his so he had no obligation to her. Why was he still sniffing around? He didn’t want her anymore so what was his goal?

She almost missed the days before they’d succumbed to whatever was between them, back when the lines were clearly drawn. He’d been her friend once and seemingly was no longer. She missed the days when he’d come in to the diner for breakfast or pie and flirt coyly with her. Ruby had overheard an exchange between them once and dropped an entire platter of breakfast specials, incapable of believing Mr. Gold was capable of humorous banter.

If their past couple of interactions at the diner were anything to go by, those days were long gone. From here on out things between them would be stilted and awkward. If she’d just been able to keep it in her pants none of this would have happened.

Belle took a break mid-morning, just leaning against the pantry door for a few moments of respite after the breakfast rush, when a booming voice from the dining room made her stomach curdle.

“Where’s my wife?” Gary shouted, strutting in to the diner as if he owned the place. He didn’t. Mr. Gold did. But Mr. Gold never barged in and demanded free meals the way Gary did.

Belle rolled her eyes, sending an apologetic look toward Granny and Anton the fry cook before hurrying to head Gary off before he could get into yet another altercation with Ruby. Her friend had her best interest at heart, but she usually only made situations with Gary worse.

“Gary,” she exclaimed, rushing forward to steer him toward a table and get him seated. “What are you doing here?”

A quick glance at the clock hung over the diner counter told her the time was 10:37, long after Gary was due at work at the cannery.

“Can’t I come by and get a taste of my wife’s pie?” Gary asked with a wink.

“Of course,” Belle said, her voice placating. “I just meant that usually you’re at work this time of day. I didn’t expect you.”

Gary kicked his feet up on the chair opposite his, making himself at home.

“The foreman was riding my ass again,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I told him I was taking a personal day.”

Belle’s stomach plunged. If Gary was taking days off work it meant he wouldn’t be paid for them. He’d be on her for her tips even more than usual.

“Now,” Gary said with a wide smile. “I’d like some of that pie, please.”

“Of course,” Belle nodded. “What kind?”

Gary scratched his chin, looking over at the chalkboard hung over the counter.

“Green with envy peppermint pie,” he read off. “Now what do you have to be envious of? You’ve got the whole package sitting right here.” Gary swept his hand down his body as though showcasing the new car grand prize on a television quiz show.

“Can she return to sender?” Ruby quipped, swanning by Gary’s table with a scowl. Belle shot her a look, but Gary seemed in too good of a mood to let Ruby’s ribbing bother him.

“You’re never gonna get a man with that attitude,” Gary called after her.

“Bold of you to assume I want one!” she called back.

“Bitch,” Gary mumbled under his breath and Belle called back his attention before a fight could start. She was planning on going over to Ariel’s tonight and she didn’t want Gary preemptively banning her from spending time with her friends.

“I’ll get you some of that pie,” she said, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder.

Once Gary had devoured his slice of peppermint pie, free of charge of course, he wiped his hands on a napkin, crumpling it up in a ball and lobbing it at Belle’s back as she waited on another table.

“That was a damn good pie, Belle,” he said as she politely excused herself from Dr. Hopper, promising him a refill on his coffee. “You’re no Sara Lee, but you’re not bad.”

“Thanks, Gary,” Belle said to the faint praise.

“Well, I’ll be off,” he said, getting up from the table. “Lots to do.”

_Beer’s not gonna drink itself_ , Belle thought unkindly.

She walked him to the door of the diner, ready for Gary’s oppressive presence to be gone but before he could leave he spun around, grabbing her lightly by the wrist.

“Hey, give me your tips for the morning.”

Belle froze. She hadn’t had a chance to divide up what she’d give to Gary and what she’d keep for herself yet.

Gary’s grip on her wrist grew tighter.

“Belle,” he said, pulling her slightly toward him. “Where are the tips?”

She reached into her apron pocket, pulling out the rolled up bills she’d managed to earn that morning and handed them over to Gary.

“Thanks, darling,” he said, giving her yet another wide smile. She wanted to knock it off his stupid face. “Now where’s my kiss?”

She reached up on her tiptoes, planting a kiss on Gary’s cheek and he patted her once on the bottom before leaving the diner.

As soon as he was gone Belle felt she could breathe easier, but her cash for the morning was completely gone. She just hoped she could make up for it at lunch.

* * *

That evening found Belle staring down Ariel’s antique corkscrew collection next to the glass front cabinet that held her collection of teaspoons. Honestly, she could give Gold a run for his money when it came to hoarding antique junk.

The thought of Gold just made her stomach twist uncomfortably.

As much as she’d tried to put him out of her mind today, as tired as she was, she couldn’t stop reliving the moment in his car the night before. She kissed him, and he pushed her away. It shouldn’t hurt so badly, not after he’d summarily ended their relationship 2 months prior and had little contact with her since. What had she expected? But her heart was still aching.

She passed her hand over one of Ariel’s teacups, hung on little hooks beneath the shelf of corkscrews. An image came to her mind unbidden. Gold’s hands gripping her hips, his soft hair tickling the inside of her thighs, his stubble scraping against her most intimate places as she laid across his massive dining room table. She’d been so lost in her pleasure that her hand had knocked her half drunk teacup clear across the dining room. They hadn’t noticed until afterward, a chip marring the rim of the cup but it otherwise escaping unscathed. She wondered what he’d done with it, if it had gone back in the cupboard to be used by Milah at a later date. She’d probably toss it in the trash if she noticed the chip. Belle suddenly wished she’d stowed it away in her purse and taken it home, a memento of what it had felt like to be truly happy.

That had been their last night together and the only night they’d ever spent cuddled up in his bed. It was in those stolen moments, in the still darkness listening to Gold’s even breathing beside her, the feel of his arms wrapped around her from behind, that Belle first thought this could be something more than two lonely people finding release in each other’s arms. For a moment, Belle let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, this was love. She should have known better.

A few days later he’d told her the whole thing had been a bad idea and they needed to stay away from each other. Up until last night, they’d kept that bargain.

And despite all of it, her lips were still stinging from his kiss, her heart still thumping away painfully at the very thought of him.

Belle shuddered, letting her hand drop from the teacup that prompted these recollections. Maybe it was love, but if it was, it was a one-sided thing and Belle had enough disappointment in her life. She needed to move on.

“Belle?” a voice came from behind her. She shook her head, turning to look at Ariel. “Were you listening to me?”

“Oh,” she exclaimed. “Sorry, I must have spaced out.”

“I was just going over the menu for the evening,” Ariel said, crossing her small living room to the coffee table and waving a hand over the assortment of food there.

“Ta-da!” she said proudly, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” Ruby called from the kitchen where she was pouring white wine. She paused for a moment, glancing at Belle, before going ahead and pouring a third glass. “I could have just brought burgers from Granny’s.”

Ariel shot her a look. “We come home smelling like burgers from Granny’s every day of the week. I wanted something a little special for tonight.”

Belle smoothed her hands down her skirt, joining Ariel by the coffee table and looking down at the spread.

“So what’s on tap for tonight?” she asked.

“We have fresh salmon and tuna rolls, yellow tail sashimi and this,” Ariel said picking up a white plate with several pieces of eel bound to wedges of sticky white rice with strips of seaweed and forcing it under Belle’s nose, “is unagi!”

Belle stepped back not trusting her new and extremely potent gag reflux despite the medicine she was taking.

“How can you afford all this fresh fish on diner tips?” she asked.

Ariel shrugged. “My dad pays for my apartment, I’m single and childless, I don’t even have a cat. What else do I have to spend my money on?”

Belle shook her head, feeling a twinge of jealousy at her friend’s financial freedom.

“Then why don’t you leave?” she asked, deadly serious. “If I had that kind of freedom I’d be long gone from here.”

“Same,” Ruby said, returning to the living room with the glasses of wine and handing them out. “But I can’t afford it and I can’t leave Granny. I know she masks it well, but she’s getting old. She can’t run the diner all by herself anymore.”

Ariel just shrugged again. “I like it here,” she said. “I like you guys and the diner and my apartment. It’d be nice to have someone to share it all with, but I’m in no hurry to leave.”

“So we’re looking for a local love then,” Ruby said, setting her wineglass on the coffee table and scooping up Ariel’s laptop from the sofa. “Fiery redhead looking for the spark to stoke her flames”?

“No!” Ariel exclaimed. “I want it to sound earnest, you know? Not like I’m selling something.”

“You are selling something, honey,” Ruby said, flopping down on a pillow next to the coffee table and pulling up the dating website. “Yourself.”

Ariel shrugged, helping herself to some of the sushi.

“Just don’t make me sound cheap,” she said around a mouthful of salmon roll. “I want to attract a classy guy.”

“Then maybe don’t talk with your mouth full,” Ruby quipped.

Belle sat down on the couch, watching her friends bicker and sip wine. She felt like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders and she couldn’t even imbibe.

“Okay, what are your hobbies?” Ruby asked. “You need things that make you sound fun and adventurous. What about rock climbing?”

Ariel frowned. “I’ve never been rock climbing.”

“You should be honest,” Belle interjected. “Honesty should be the cornerstone of any relationship. Don’t lie to make yourself into something you’re not. Lord knows you won’t be able to keep that up for a lifetime and you’ll only make yourself and the other person miserable.”

Ariel looked at her, concern etched across her face. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve barely touched the food.”

Belle shook her head. Ruby already knew, she might as well tell her other best friend as well.

“No, not really,” she said, twirling the still full wineglass around on the coffee table in front of her. “I’m pregnant.”

“Oh!” Ariel gasped. If she’d been in a more cheerful mood, Belle would have laughed at the facial journey Ariel went on from an excited smile to confusion to wide-eyed realization. “Oh this is a bad thing isn’t it?”

“It’s a complicated thing,” Belle countered.

“Oh shit!” Ariel exclaimed, jumping up from her perch on the sofa. “You’re pregnant and here I am forcing alcohol and raw fish on you! I’m so stupid. What can I get you instead? A coke? No, god dammit the caffeine! Think, Ariel!”

Belle had to chuckle at her friend’s outburst.

“It’s fine, honey, I’m fine.”

“You might be, but this one sure isn’t,” Ruby said as Ariel set off into the kitchen, digging through her pantry in a fervor. “Sit down before you hurt yourself!”

They finally got Ariel calmed down after she’d found a box of wheat thins in her pantry and pressed them on Belle. An hour later they had a reasonably well thought out dating profile composed and Ariel sat with her finger poised over the button to click publish.

“Are you sure I should do this?” she asked, looking between her two friends.

“If you don’t, I will,” Ruby said brazenly, reaching across to hit the button herself. Belle knocked her arm away.

“Just try it,” she told Ariel, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, but stick some bait out there and see if you get any nibbles. There’s plenty of fish in the sea and you can always throw back the ones you don’t want.”

Ariel inclined her head at her. “Thanks for the fish puns,” she said before decisively clicking publish. Ariel’s new dating profile flared to life on the screen. “Now what?” she asked.

“Now you meet the man of your dreams, of course," Belle said. If only love were that easy. 

* * *

 

Belle trudged home that night looking forward to climbing in to bed and falling fast asleep. She had to work the breakfast shift in the morning and she was already running on empty. Her pregnancy book said she should be getting more rest now in the first trimester, not less. But Belle had never done things by the book.

She should have no trouble getting sleep tonight though. Tuesday night meant Gary was down at the Rabbit Hole with the guys, playing pool and getting drunk. It also meant Belle had the apartment to herself and could be sound asleep by the time Gary made it home. Most Tuesdays she’d curl up with a book until she drifted off but tonight she expected to forego the book completely, just slip in to her most comfortable pair of pajamas and go comatose for a few hours.

Her big plans for the evening were abruptly cancelled when she reached the door of her apartment, freezing at the sound of the television on within.

The front door was unlocked and she pushed it open, her stomach sinking at the sight of Gary sprawled across the couch, a beer held loosely in his grip. He looked up at her, his expression annoyed.

“Finally fucking home,” he grunted as Belle shut the door behind her, wishing she could bolt away and never return. She should have just slept on Ariel’s futon like her friend had offered.

“It’s Tuesday,” she said dumbly. “Why aren’t you out with the guys?”

“Because I wanted to spend some quality time with my wife,” he said. “Where were you?”

“I was at Ariel’s,” she said truthfully, slipping her jacket off her shoulders and tossing it across the back of the sofa.

Gary grunted, turning his attention back to the TV.

“Hope you weren’t out spending my money,” he said. “You and your lazy ass friends.”

Belle bit her tongue, holding back the defense of her friends that wanted to pour forth. It wasn’t worth the fight.

“I was just at Ariel’s apartment,” she said. “No money spent.”

She crept past the sofa hoping she could make it to the bedroom without any further discussion. No such luck.

“Good,” Gary tossed out. “Because I fucking quit my job.”

That brought Belle up short.

“What?” she hissed turning on her heel. “Why would you do that?”

“Because my boss was a dick!” Gary said, taking another mouthful of beer and swallowing it down audibly. “Always riding my ass about every little thing. I didn’t need it. I’ll find a better job.”

“Have you?” Belle asked, walking back in to the living room and standing in front of Gary. “Have you found a new job or did you just up and quit a perfectly good job with no back up?”

Gary’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you start nagging me,” he said, his tone menacing. “I get enough of that all day I don’t need it in my home.”

“Gary,” Belle cried. “We need that income! I don’t make enough to support us both.”

“Well maybe you should work harder!” he yelled, throwing his beer across the room with a crash. Belle flinched, staring at the place where the glass bottle had shattered against the living room wall, beer trickling down and staining the carpet.

Gary heaved a sigh. “Now look what you made me do!” he said.

Belle scrambled over to the kitchen, grabbing a dishrag to mop up the beer and collect up the broken glass. A jagged piece of the brown glass dug into her thumb, a drop of blood blooming and dripping down her hand. Belle just stared at it numbly.

“Look, we’re going to be fine,” Gary said, coming up behind her and placing his big hands on her shoulders. “I’ve got everything taken care of. I’ve got money.”

“From where?” Belle asked hollowly, still staring at her bloody thumb. “What money?”

“I took out a loan,” Gary said simply, dropping his hands from her shoulders and heading in to the kitchen to pull another beer from the fridge.

Belle followed him, dropping the broken glass into the trashcan and wrapping the dishtowel around her bloody hand. She felt like a chunk of ice had just slid down her throat, settling in her stomach and freezing her from the inside out.

“Who did you take out a loan with, Gary?” she asked, already fearing the answer. “We don’t have any collateral to put up with the bank. Who did you go to?”

“Mr. Gold,” Gary said with a shrug, confirming Belle’s worst fears.

What must he think of her? She’d nearly thrown herself at him the night before and now he probably thought it was all to secure a loan. He must think she’s the lowest sort of opportunist.

“For how much?” she demanded. “How much do we owe him?”

“Ten thousand,” Gary said, as if that wasn’t an insurmountable amount of money for them.

“Ten thousand dollars!” she exclaimed. “How…how are we supposed to ever pay that back? Why did you take out so much?”

“Well I needed some way to pay the bills,” Gary scoffed. “I quit my job nearly two months ago.”

Belle needed to sit down.

“You mean we’ve been living off of a loan for the past two months?” she nearly screeched. “What have you been doing all day when you were supposed to be at work?”

“Why are you freaking out?” Gary asked. “We’ll pay him back when I get my new job. It’s not a big deal.”

“What job?” Belle demanded. “You don’t have a job, Gary. I make peanuts at the diner. We’re going to be indebted to Mr. Gold forever!”

“Why do you care so much about Mr. Gold?” Gary asked, his eyes narrowing. “Why the fuck are you concerned with him?”

“Because he owns our entire lives! He owns this apartment, he owns whatever you put up as collateral for the loan, we owe him more than we can ever repay! How is that not a big deal to you?”

“Don’t question me!” Gary roared. “I do what I have to for you, Belle, to keep a roof over your head and what do I get in return? Your nagging and your damn questions!”

Belle backed away. She hadn’t seen Gary this upset in a while.

“I’m sorry,” she said on instinct.

“Fuck your sorry,” he continued. Gary grabbed her by the wrist, throwing her away from him until she came into hard contact with the kitchen counter. “I do everything for you and I get no appreciation!”

He pinned her against the counter, his face right up in hers, his lips pulled back in a snarl.

“Why do you do shit like this, Belle?” he yelled. “Why do you make me feel like such a failure?”

“You’re not a failure,” she said, shaking her head. “Please, Gary.”

One of Gary’s hands came up to rest against her throat heavily and Belle froze, too scared to even breathe.

“Why do you do this?” he repeated, his face feral. His hand tightened around her throat and something in Belle snapped.

“Please!” she screamed. “I’m pregnant!”

Gary dropped his hand from around her throat.

“What?”

“I’m pregnant,” she said again, still frozen in her place against the counter. “I was going to tell you. I only just found out.”

Gary’s chest was heaving as he shook his head.

“Pregnant?” he repeated. “We’re gonna have a baby?”

Belle nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn’t want to tell him like this. She didn’t want to tell him at all. But if it stayed his hand, it was worth it. She had someone else to protect now. 

“Shit, Belle,” he said, rubbing his hands on the legs of his jeans. “Little Gary Junior! We’re having a baby!”

It was horrifying, watching how quickly Gary could swing from one extreme emotion to the next. His rage was suddenly replaced by exuberance. After a moment he realized Belle was still pressed back against the counter and he grabbed her hands.

“Oh, baby, come on, sit down,” he said, leading her to the sofa and getting her settled.

She was shaking, words escaping her. All she could do was follow Gary and hope the monster didn’t come out again.

“It’s alright, baby,” he said stroking a hand against her hair. “I just get so angry sometimes. But I don’t want you to worry about anything. I’m gonna get a new job. Tomorrow I’ll go ask around town. I’ll find something.”

Belle still couldn’t find her voice, just sitting there in shock as Gary pulled her toward him, cradling her against his shoulder.

“This will all work out fine,” he cooed, his hand going to caress her still flat stomach. “We’re gonna be together forever, just you, me and this baby. You’ll see.”

“Forever,” Belle croaked out, one last tear escaping and running down her cheek.

She had to escape, for herself and her baby. But Gary's grip on her had never felt tighter. 


	5. Chapter 5

It felt as though something had shifted, something had changed.

Before the night she told Gary the truth about her pregnancy, she had felt guilty about breaking her marriage vows. She had been brought up to believe that when you made a promise, you sure as shit better keep it. Her mother had believed it to the point of staying with a man who left bruises down her arms and across her throat on a regular basis.

But Belle wasn’t going to suffer through that, not again and not anymore. She remembered all too well cowering in the kitchen as her father raged against her mother in the next room. She wouldn’t let her own child feel that terror.

It was almost as though she felt cut free from Gary. She still couldn’t leave him, not yet. She had no money and the noose was only getting tighter in that respect. She was also fairly certain he would kill her if he knew what she had done. But she felt no responsibility toward him, no guilt for his feelings.

With one choking hand around her throat he had freed her from the burden of caring about him.

She left for work early the next morning after barely sleeping a wink, unable to relax enough for sleep with Gary in the house. She stood outside the diner doors in the pre-dawn light waiting for Ruby to arrive with the key. Across the street she could see Gold’s pawnshop, dark and shut up tight. It wouldn’t open for hours yet, but she needed to talk to him.

The timing of things hadn’t escaped her notice and she’d lain awake all night, listening to Gary’s heavy snores and thinking.

Gary had lost his job two months ago and gone to Mr. Gold to cover their cost of living in the meantime. She wasn’t entirely sure why Gary had borrowed so much or why Gold had given it to him. He had to know he wasn’t good for it and Gold never made a deal without knowing he’d come out on top. Charity wasn’t in his nature, certainly not with respect to Gary and not with respect to anyone else in town either.

The only answer she could come to was that he’d done it for her, because he cared about her.

But Gary had taken out the loan 2 months ago. Mr. Gold had ended their affair at the same time. The two events could not be unrelated.

Gold must have ended things between them because he thought she was using him, softening him up so he’d loan her husband money, and yet he'd given in anyway. She had to explain things to him and maybe salvage something of their former friendship, if nothing else.

It was strange, but Belle felt more hopeful than she had in months, perhaps years. At least now she had a concrete reason for why things soured between her and Gold and she could make strides to fix it.

There was the hum of an engine and Belle watched as the familiar Cadillac pulled up to the curb across the street. Gold was in shadow as he turned his car off and there was no further movement from within.

She pushed off from the diner door, crossing the small courtyard and standing on the sidewalk, watching with bated breath. Gold looked to be leaned forward, his head resting against his steering wheel and for a moment she wondered if he’d fallen asleep. But a moment later the car door opened and his lean, suit-clad form exited the car.

He stood beside the car, hunched and weary looking and Belle felt a surge of tender emotion. She wished for nothing more but to run across the street and hold him. If he slept as badly as she did he could probably use a coffee. Perhaps after the diner opened she could bring him one. But that was too far away and she wanted to say something to him now.

“Max,” she called out, her voice ringing across the empty street. Gold’s head snapped up, his eyes finding her and widening in surprise.

She felt the butterflies flare to life in her stomach now that his attention was on her. He was so gorgeous, the sun rising over Main Street illuminating him and the breath caught in her chest at the sight of his warm, brown eyes. She’d thought she was in love with Gary, years ago in high school when he was good looking and nice enough to her. But that had been a child’s impression of love, one who had known nothing of the sentiment but what she’d seen on television and the less than stellar example set by her parents. Now she was a woman grown and she knew without question that she loved Maxwell Gold.

They were both frozen, staring at each other across the street but making no move to cross it.

“Max,” she said again, her voice little more than a whisper. It felt so good to use his first name. She’d never allowed herself before, despite him giving it to her. It had felt too familiar and they needed to keep some sort of distance between them in deference to their spouses. Now she felt no compunction in doing so.

Ruby was approaching, her red peep toed heels clacking along the pavement, but Belle was too entranced with the man across the street to notice.

“Hey, what are you doing here so early?” Ruby asked, coming to stand beside Belle.

“Sorry Ruby,” Belle said, without taking her eyes off Gold. “I need to take care of something.”

She darted across the street to where Gold was still frozen outside his shop, her heart hammering and her lungs feeling breathless.

“Hey,” she said, unable to find the words for the swell of emotion inside her chest.

“Hey,” he returned, a bemused smile crossing his face.

There was a beat of silence, the tension stringing tight between them until it would have to snap.

“I didn’t know,” she gasped out. “About Gary and the loan. I didn’t know.”

Comprehension dawned across Gold’s face and he nodded.

“Ah,” he said, turning the cane in his hand to and fro. “I assumed you did.”

“No,” Belle repeated with a shake of her head.

Gold nodded again. “Then it seems we have much to talk about.”

“Come to the diner tonight, after closing,” she said. “Everyone will be gone by ten but I stay late to make the pies. Come by then.”

“Okay,” Gold agreed, the bemused smile gracing his face once more.

When she made it back to Granny’s Ruby linked arms with her, pulling her close.

“What the hell was that about?” she whispered.

“I just needed to talk to Mr. Gold about something.”

Ruby raised a suspicious eyebrow. “At six in the morning?”

“No time like the present,” Belle said with a shrug.

Ruby looked unconvinced.

“You’re blushing,” she pointed out, a dog with a bone. “You’re breathless. Your heart rate is accelerated. What is happening here? Do you _like_ Mr. Gold?”

Belle gave her a secretive smile.

“We need to open the diner, Ruby.”

Ruby just stared after her, agog.

* * *

Ruby nagged at Belle, repeatedly asking what she possibly had to say to Mr. Gold, for the next hour as they opened Granny’s for business.

“Do you owe him money,” she asked.

Belle couldn’t rightly answer that one. Technically she did, thanks to Gary. But that’s not why she was mooning after him from across the street, something she planned to clarify to Gold later that night.

“There’s more to Mr. Gold than his bank account, Ruby,” Belle admonished as she refilled the ketchup bottles. “Not everything has to be about money.”

“I’ll say,” Ruby said suspiciously, pausing in her task of arranging donuts in a display case. “Did you call him Max? Is that his name? Are you guys on a first name basis now?”

“Ruby,” Belle said, exasperated at the line of questioning.

“What, are you sleeping with him?” she threw out casually as if the very concept was ridiculous.

Belle’s face must have paled, her expression somehow giving her away because Ruby gasped.

“Oh my God, you _are_ sleeping with him!”

“Hush, Ruby!” Belle exclaimed. “And no, I’m not. Not currently anyway,” she added as an afterthought.

“Holy…” Ruby trailed off, shaking her head. “How? Why? Does Gary know?”

“Of course Gary doesn’t know and Gary’s not going to know.”

Ruby shook her head again as if trying to dislodge the mental images taking up residence there.

“But it’s Mr. Gold,” she said as though she was accusing Belle of sleeping with the Boogie Man. “I still don’t get the how or why part.”

“And you won’t,” Belle said, skirting around Ruby to place the newly filled ketchup bottles on the diner tables. “I still don’t know what this is or will be or how it’ll ever work out and I don’t want to talk about it or dwell on it so you’re going to be quiet and supportive of me, your friend, and we’ll leave it there.”

Ruby’s eyes widened. “That was very assertive of you,” she said, leaning against the diner counter. “I’m quite proud.”

All further discussion was put on hold by the arrival Granny at 7:00, walking in to the diner and flipping the sign in the door from Closed to Open.

“Where’s Ariel?” she barked, unwinding her scarf from around her neck. “If that girl is late again, so help me.”

“You’ll what?” Ruby asked her grandmother, bracing a hand against her cocked hip. “Go ahead and tell us because I’m dying to know what you’d do to dear, sweet Ariel for being a few minutes late.”

“I’m not late!” called a frantic Ariel, red hair streaming behind her as she ran in through the front door as if on cue. “I’m just having a crisis.”

She threw her purse down on one of the tables, turning to face the three women with a look of panic on her face.

“Girls, you have to help me!” she exclaimed.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Belle asked, looking her friend over for signs of injury. She looked to be in perfect health.

Ruby had her hands up as if ready to catch Ariel if she keeled over at any moment. Granny was glaring at her as if she’d just kicked a puppy.

“I have…” Ariel began dramatically. “A date.”

Granny threw her hands up, stomping off toward the kitchen and grumbling about overly excitable children.

“Well, that was fast,” said Ruby, relaxing her stance. “We just posted your profile last night. How do you have a date already?”

Ariel collapsed into the chair, spreading her hands out across the diner table.

“Well he sent me a thumbs up about six minutes after you guys left last night. I wasn’t quite sure what that meant so I thumbed him up too and that meant he could send me a private message and, well, we messaged each other all night.”

“That’s a good sign,” Belle said. “What did you talk about?”

“Did he ask for nudes?” Ruby asked at the same time.

“No,” Ariel said with a pointed look at Ruby. “He didn’t. He was a perfect gentleman. We talked about movies and books and music and then he asked me on a date and I was so shocked I just said yes. What do I do?”

“You go on a date,” Ruby said with a shrug. “What’s the big deal?”

“It’s a date!” Ariel screeched, slamming her hands down against the table. “That’s the big deal. Do you know the last date I went on? Junior prom!”

Ariel dropped her head into her hands, tugging at her hair and letting out a long groan.

“Oh, honey, I had no idea,” Ruby said with a wince. She walked around the table to place her hands on Ariel’s shoulders, rubbing them lightly. “Okay, calm down and we’ll get through this. What do you know about him?”

Ariel picked her head up, keeping her chin balanced on her hands.

“Well, his screen name is SeaMan27 and…”

Ruby snorted. “Well, he’s either a pervert or as hopeless as you are,” she interjected.

Ariel rolled her eyes and continued. “His favorite movie is Finding Nemo, he works as a fisherman down at the wharf and he has a puppy named Max.”

Belle stood a little straighter at the name and Ruby shot her a look.

“He has a dog named Max, huh? So does Belle, apparently.”

Belle blushed and Ariel looked confused.

“Belle got a dog?”

“No,” Belle said, sitting down at the table across from Ariel. “Ruby just thinks she’s funny.”

Belle reached across the table, taking Ariel’s hand in hers.

“So what’s the problem? He sounds perfect for you.”

“What if Ruby’s right and he’s a pervert who wants to murder me, cut me up into tiny little pieces and keep me in pickle jars in his fridge?”

Belle raised her eyebrows. “That’s an oddly specific fear,” she said. “But if you get a bad vibe, leave the date early. And make sure you meet him somewhere public and brightly lit.”

“And call me,” Ruby added. “I’ll come by and kick him in the balls.”

Ariel nodded, but still looked tense. After a moment she spoke again, her voice soft and uncertain.

“What if he takes one look at me and decides I’m not good enough and leaves?”

Belle shook her head, squeezing Ariel’s hand reassuringly. “Then he’s an idiot and he’s not worth your time.”

“And call me and I’ll come by and kick him in the balls,” Ruby said again.

Ariel snorted a laugh, reaching back to grab Ruby’s hand on her shoulder.

“Thanks, guys,” she said. “I feel a little bit better.”

“You’re a natural beauty, Ariel,” Ruby said, skimming her fingers through Ariel’s long red hair. “But just for tonight can you _please_ let me put some makeup on you?”

“Okay,” Ariel agreed, relaxing a bit.

“You can borrow an outfit if you want.”

Ariel turned around to take a look at Ruby’s spiky heels, her eyes sliding up to her bright red hot pants.

“No, I’m good,” she said politely.

Ruby yanked on her hair in punishment and the two went back to bickering.

* * *

The rest of the day passed quietly enough, but for the occasional sly comment from Ruby. Belle headed home when her shift ended at 3:00 to a blessedly empty apartment and was able to get a few hours of sleep before she had to be back at the diner. She vaguely wondered if Gary had kept his promise of the night before and was out looking for a job or, the more likely option, he was out drinking with his friends.

She decided she didn’t care as long as he wasn’t home and crawled between the covers.

She made it back to Granny's for 9:00, donning an apron and pulling the ingredients she'd need from the pantry. It was easy to lose herself in her work, the familiar pairing of butter, flour and sugar the base for any of her creations. At 10, Anton closed up the rest of the kitchen, bidding her farewell and turning off all the lights except for the one hung over the industrial stainless steel island she was working on.  

She'd already put the chocolate chip pecan pies, tomorrow's special, in the refrigerator for safe keeping and she turned back to her work station wondering what to make next. Coming to a decision she pulled out yet another mixing bowl, filling it with flour, sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg.   

She heard the soft tap of a cane and smiled to herself. Max had shown up after all.  

“Belle,” came his soft voice from behind her, so much more welcome than the cold “Mrs. Stone” she’d become accustomed to over the past few weeks. She let it wash over her, warming her from the inside out.

“Max,” she said, turning to face him.

“You, um, wanted to talk,” he said. He looked strange there in the kitchen, his dark suit and gold handled cane completely at odds with the sacks of flour and sugar lining the wall behind him. She was sure she had flour all over her. His suit was in danger just being this close to her.

“Wait a minute,” she said, turning back to the dish in front of her. “I’m baking.”

Gold chuckled, crossing the kitchen to come stand next to her.

“What are you making?” he asked.

“Lonely Chicago Pie. It was one of my mother’s recipes.”

Gold cocked an eyebrow. “What’s so lonely about Chicago?”

Belle shrugged as she beat eggs, butter and vanilla together. “She never did tell me,” she said. “She always had funny little names for her pies.”

“A tradition you’ve carried on,” Gold said, inclining his head toward her. “I seem to remember a particularly delicious banana concoction called “Headed for Splitsville”.

Belle grinned as she poured the egg mixture into a bowl with the flour and spices. She’d created that pie the day after she and Max had slept together for the first time.

“That was originally called the ‘I absolutely cannot have an affair because my husband will kill me’ Pie,” she said. “Inspired by you, but you can see why I’d have to change the name.”

“I inspired a banana cream pie?” he asked, a bemused look on his face. “I’m not sure how to feel about that.”

Belle just gave him another little smile before pouring the pie filling into her crust and turning to place it in the oven.

She stood up, dusting her hands off on her apron and setting her timer for 45 minutes. She still needed to melt the chocolate and mash the berries for the pie topping, but she could do that later.

“So,” she said, coming to stand before Gold. “That talk.”

“Yeah,” Gold nodded.

They stood there for a long moment, close together in the small kitchen, the low hum of a dishwasher the only other sound in the otherwise silent diner.

“I didn’t know about the loan,” she repeated her words from that morning. “Gary told me last night that he’d lost his job and all I could think was how little you must think of me.”

“No,” he protested, raising a hand.

“I wasn’t with you for the money,” she continued. “I would never do that. I wasn’t trying to soften you up or anything like that.”

“I know,” he said.

That brought Belle up short. Perhaps she’d waxed romantic in her head and the loan and the end of their affair were unrelated events.

“Then why did you end things between us?”

He moved forward, hooking the handle of his cane on the kitchen island and took her hands in his.

“I didn’t want you to feel indebted to me,” he said haltingly. “It added another complicated layer to a relationship I already feared was a mistake. I never wanted to wonder if you were only here because you felt you had to be. That you would feel unable to break things off even if you wanted to.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I’m used to people having ulterior motives,” he said, his eyes cast down, not meeting hers.

“I didn’t,” she said, dipping her head to try to meet his eyes. “I would never.”

“I’m sorry I suspected that you did,” he said, tightening his grip on her hands. “It’s not a reflection on you, Belle. It’s me. At this juncture in my life I expect to be used.”

Belle could feel the tears springing to her eyes as she shook her head. God, Max hid it well, but he was just as broken down as she was.

“You could have said no,” she pointed out. “When Gary came to you for money you could have told him no and kept from _complicating_ things.”

Gold shook his head. “I wanted to take care of you,” he said simply. “You work so hard and I know what Gary’s finances look like. I just wanted to give you some peace of mind.”

“So you gave Gary the money for me, but you didn’t want me to feel indebted to you?” she reasoned out.

“I – I wanted to believe this,” he said, motioning his hand back and forth between them. “I wanted it to mean something because so little in my life does. I’d rather have it end prematurely than turn into a business transaction.”

“But you just said it was a mistake,” she pointed out. She couldn’t forget his words at their parting and she hadn’t missed his use of the word again now.

“It was a mistake. A colossally bad idea. The two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”

He looked desperate, raw. She’d never seen him like this. When their affair had started, it was out of desperation of a different kind. Right here in this moment, she thought she could probably break him with a word.

“I like you,” she said haltingly, unable to commit to more than that despite her earlier revelation. “Just for you. You’re intelligent and handsome and you listen to me. You make me feel like I matter. A girl can get addicted to that.”

“Oh sweetheart,” he said, reaching out to cup her cheek. “You do matter. You matter to me.”

It wasn’t an ‘I love you’ but for now it meant enough.

The moment hung between them, his palm light against her cheek and their eyes never leaving each other. The air was thick with tension, tension that had to be broken one way or another. Belle knew which way she hoped for.

But before she could act, Gold bent forward first, brushing his lips against hers gently. It was the first time he’d initiated a kiss in months and Belle let herself melt into it. He was tentative, as though they’d never done this before as though this was the first time.

Belle pressed herself closer to him, winding her arms around his neck. She opened her mouth to him and he deepened the kiss, his tongue dipping in to taste her. Gold’s arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close. It felt so good to be held by someone gentle and kind, who cared about her. It was like finding a port in a storm, like taking a deep breath of spring air after a winter kept indoors. He sustained her.

Her hands gripped on to his shoulders before moving down over his chest, feeling the hard planes of him beneath the soft wool of his suit. She pushed her hands inside his suit jacket to be met with his waistcoat and she grunted in frustration. She wanted to feel him, the heat of him, unimpeded by his many layers.

She pulled back, slightly breathless, looking up at Gold. His eyes were dark, his lips wet, his breath coming hard.

“Are you okay?” he asked, one hand coming up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

She nodded, the dark and the stillness of the kitchen after hours, always her soothing respite from the world outside, only heightened by his presence.

Her eyes trailed down over his chest and she gasped, pulling away.

“I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, looking around for a towel.

“What?” Gold asked, looking down at himself.

His black suit was streaked with white flour, his trousers dusted with it from where Belle had pressed against him in her apron and the clear imprint of her fingertips marring his lapels.

Belle surfaced with a clean towel, dusting off Gold’s suit frantically.

“I’m so sorry,” she said again. “I’m a mess and I didn’t think…”

“It’s alright,” Gold said as Belle continued to sweep over him with the towel. She reached the front of his pants and Gold caught her wrist in his hands.

“It’s fine,” he said, and Belle pulled back, blushing hard. “I keep an extra suit in my shop. I can change. It’s fine.”

“Oh,” Belle said, nodding. She could just imagine Gold going home covered in flour and how he’d ever explain it to his wife or his son. God, what was she doing! It was all fine and well that she felt no more responsibility for Gary’s feelings, but Gold had a family as well. A whole family.

“Belle?” he asked, her wrist still held in his light grip. “Are you here with me?”

“Yeah,” she said, giving her head a little shake. “I’m sorry. I didn’t ask you here for this.”

“I didn’t think you did,” he said.

“I don’t want to be selfish,” she said, resting her free hand against his chest, small and pale against the expensive fabric of his suit. “I don’t want to be the reason your life falls apart.”

“I kissed you,” he pointed out.

He brought his hand up to her chin, tipping her face up to look at him. His thumb brushed against her bottom lip, his eyes searching her face moving from her lips to her hair and finally settling on her eyes. Belle gasped at the heat in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

Belle couldn’t help it. She lurched forward, claiming his mouth once more. She didn’t want to think about Gary or Milah or any of the reasons this was a bad idea. She just wanted him.

She wrapped herself around him, her arms around his shoulders, her right leg coming up to wrap around his hip. Gold held on to her tightly, his fingers digging in to her spine and her hip. She realized, belatedly, that he didn’t have his cane and they tipped backward, her back coming into hard contact with the edge of the kitchen island.

She let out a hiss of pain and Gold pulled back, worry in his eyes.

“Are you…”

Belle cut him off with another kiss before he could finish the sentence. It was so different from when she’d been shoved against a kitchen counter the night before. There was no fear now, only excitement and joy and pure, unadulterated need.

Gold scooped her up, setting her down on the island without breaking the kiss. A bowl clattered to the ground but they paid it no mind, too caught up in each other.

Belle’s hands twisted in the fabric of Gold’s jacket and he wrenched away from her, shrugging it off and casting it to the ground.

Belle was breathless, leaning back against the island counter top and watching Gold. He got his waistcoat off as well and then he was back. Belle spread her knees, pulling him to stand between them so she could wrap her legs around his hips. He kissed her again, his hands going to the buttons on her white button down blouse, pulling each one from its hole until her shirt hung open, her plain cotton bra on display. Belle pulled at his tie, getting it free from his neck and throwing it to the side and pulled his silk shirt from his trousers, slipping her hands underneath to feel his warm skin. There’d be no salvaging his clothes for certain now.

Gold’s lips slid from Belle’s mouth, across her jaw and down her neck, sucking on her pulse point before gently scraping his teeth against the sensitive flesh. Belle’s hips bucked against his of their own volition, brushing against the hardening length of him between her legs. Gold let out a moan, his teeth sinking into her neck, a stinging pleasure sweeping through her and settling heavily between her thighs. She could feel the heat coiling in her belly.

She leaned back again, pulling Gold with her until he had no choice but to climb up on the island with her, lucky that the island was big and they were both. She swept an arm out behind her, clearing the countertop of cooking utensils and they clanged and banged against the tile floor. Beside her, a bag of flour upended, spilling across the counter and on to the floor. She’d have a mess to clean later but she couldn’t care less. Gold was over top her and looking down with so much tenderness in his eyes she could almost believe he loved her too, that they were free to do as they wished and would be together forever.

Then he broke their eye contact, bending to press kisses against her throat and down her chest.

He kissed along her sternum, nuzzling between her breasts. She wanted to remove her bra, her skirt, his clothes. She wanted him bare and pressed against her. But they were in the kitchen of Granny’s Diner, flour in her hair and strawberry jam tipped over and spilling across the counter next to her arm. She wanted to taste it on his skin.

Gold lifted his head to meet her eyes, pushing his hands through her hair and cradling her face as he kissed her sweetly. Belle leaned up, shrugging her arms from her blouse and Gold reached behind her to unclasp her bra. Soon she was naked from the waist up and Gold was looking down at her like he’d never seen anything so miraculous no matter that he’d seen her naked before. He looked wild, like he wanted to devour her whole and Belle was prone to let him.

With that in mind, Gold reached to the side where the sticky jam had spilled, trailing a finger through it before wiping it along Belle’s skin, circling her nipple until it hardened into a tight bud. He followed his finger with his tongue, his hot mouth a shock to her senses after the cold jam. Belle threw her head back, letting out a loud moan as he sucked at her. She threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging at the long tresses and relishing the sounds he made vibrating against her skin.

He repeated the move with the jam on her other breast and down her stomach, his tongue dipping into her navel. She wanted to press her thighs together, to do something to relieve the ache, but Gold was lying between her legs as he dipped ever lower. When he reached the waistband of her red uniform skirt he finally looked up at her.

“Delicious,” he growled, licking his lips. Belle’s chest was heaving, her skin sticky and wet, cold despite the fact that she felt she was burning up from the inside.

Gold’s hands pushed her skirt up over her hips, dipping a hand between her thighs and Belle gasped at the feel of his fingers there, tracing her slit through her sodden panties.

“So wet,” he said with a shake of his head, as if he couldn’t believe it.

He should believe it. It had never been this way with anyone else. The first time they were together it was like seeing sunlight for the first time after a lifetime of only seeing children’s drawings of the sun. All this time she’d thought sex was one thing and it turned out to be something very different, more than she’d ever known. After that first time she had trembled, her teeth chattering and tears spilling down her cheeks for the sheer realization of all she’d been missing.

She grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him back down to kiss her and Gold went happily. His hand worked it’s way into her panties, his fingers lightly brushing against her. Belle lifted her hips, trying to get him to touch her where she needed him. They didn’t have the time or inclination for much teasing and it didn’t take much coaxing for him to slip one thick finger up inside of her. He turned his hand so his palm was pressing against her clit while his finger stroked inside of her and Belle broke the kiss with a moan.

She wasn’t sure if it was her pregnancy or the fact that it had been weeks, but she felt more sensitive than usual. She wasn’t going to last long at all.

Gold added a second finger, pumping inside her, his palm grinding against her pearl, leaving open-mouthed kisses against her neck and it was all too much. She broke with a cry, her channel squeezing around his fingers and breath coming out in stuttered gasps.

Gold kissed her, stroking her gently through her high. Eventually he slipped his fingers from her, popping them in his mouth and sucking them clean. Belle watched with eyes blown wide and mouth hanging open.

“Even more delicious,” Gold said, his voice low and gravelly.

Belle scrambled for his belt buckle, getting it open and his pants and boxers pushed down his hips in short order.

“I need you,” she moaned. “Please. Please…”

She was babbling and she didn’t even care.

“Belle,” he said, propping himself over her on his elbows and shaking his head. “We can’t. I don’t have protection.”

Belle stuttered out a laugh. “What, am I going to get _more_ pregnant?”

Gold’s eyebrows rose as if for a moment he’d forgotten her predicament.

“Fair point,” he conceded.

She pulled him back into a kiss, reaching between them to line him up. He cupped her cheeks, pressing his forehead against hers as he slowly pushed in to her.

Belle’s back arched up off the counter, one hand scrabbling for purchase against the flour covered stainless steel and the other twining in Gold’s hair, her nails scratching against his scalp.

The feel of her nails raking through his hair made Gold’s hips buck forward, slamming in to Belle with enough force to take her breath away. She gasped, trying to get her feet under her, to brace herself to push up to meet him.

They clung to each other, nose-to-nose, panting in the still, pastry scented air. Then Gold pulled out almost all the way before pushing in to Belle once more, setting up a pace of long, slow thrusts. She gripped on to him, wrapping her legs around his waist and holding on. Gold was whispering things against her ear, his accent so thickened with lust she couldn’t possibly make them out. It didn’t matter. It was enough.

“You feel so good,” she made out, and she nodded her head against his shoulder.

“So do you. So good. The best.”

His hands roamed over her, sliding down to her hips and back up to cup her breasts and pinch her nipples.

“Fuck,” Belle yelped and Gold kissed her again, swallowing down her curses.

His hand moved between them, his thumb pressing against her clit above where they were joined, the pressure building within her. Every brush of his thumb coupled with the thrusts of his cock, thick and rigid inside her, made her see stars. She held her breath, biting down on her lip and shutting her eyes tight, her entire body taut with tension until it exploded. She gripped on to his arms and spasmed around him as she came, her breath coming out in short, staccato, cries.

Gold’s tempo increased, his thrusts becoming erratic until he came with a shout, emptying himself inside her.

The pumping of his hips slowed until he slumped against her, his sweat-dampened hair fanning out over her chest. Belle brought a hand up to lay against his back soothingly as they both breathed heavily, coming back down to earth.

“Still think this is a bad idea?”

Gold lifted his head from her chest, looking down at her. She was certain she was a mess, covered in jam with flour in her hair, disheveled and sweaty.

He smiled at her, a wicked twist of his lips and a raised eyebrow.

“It was a pretty good bad idea,” he said with a wink.

Belle giggled, stretching her arms over her head and knocking a lone spoon off the counter and to the floor, the sound of silverware on tile ringing out.

“I’m going to have to sanitize this kitchen before I leave,” she said craning her neck to look at the kitchen island. She didn’t want to think about the mess on the floor at the moment.

“I can help you,” Gold offered and she kissed him again.

“You’ll make me come twice and then help clean the kitchen,” she said with a sigh. “You really are the perfect man.”

Gold snorted but she thought she saw a pleased flush bloom across his cheeks. He was a man unused to being complimented, she thought. She’d have to do better on that score.

A loud beeping rang out in the kitchen and Belle’s eyes widened.

“My Lonely Chicago!” she squealed, pushing Gold off her and hopping down off the island. She was topless and commando, her skirt falling down to offer a bit of modesty as she crossed to the stove and pulled the pie out. It looked perfect as she set it on the counter to cool.

“Maybe I’ll change the name,” she said, turning back to Gold who was pulling his extremely wrinkled and flour covered trousers back on. “I’m not feeling quite so lonely anymore.”


	6. Chapter 6

Max was good to his word and helped Belle mop and disinfect the kitchen, stopping every once in a while to plant a kiss on her lips. It was gone midnight by the time they were done and Belle had finished up the Lonely Chicago pie or, as she’d decided to call it from now on, the “Hot in the Kitchen” Pie.

Gold gave her one more lingering kiss before slipping out the back door of Granny’s and into the alley. It wasn’t as though anyone would be around at this time of night to spot them, but Belle got a little thrill from it regardless. She liked having a secret all her own. It made her feel daring and special and alive.

She still looked a fright, coated in flour, her clothes a mess, and a rather impressive hickey blooming on her neck. She’d have to hide that with strategically placed clothing and makeup before going home.

With that in mind, she left the kitchen, heading for the bathrooms in the back of the diner. The sink faucet was a poor substitute for an actual shower, but needs must. She could hop into the shower as soon as she got home and Gary was probably asleep anyway, but she didn’t want to run the risk of seeing him in her current state.

She was walking down the hall, a lazy little smile on her face, when the back door that led to Granny’s Bed and Breakfast on the other side of the bathrooms banged open and a tangle of long hair and limbs stumbled in.

Belle pulled up short, barely containing a shriek of surprise. But the intruders hadn’t even noticed her presence.

It took Belle’s mind a moment to catch up to what she was witnessing. Ruby and Ariel had their arms wrapped around each other, mouths fused together in a passionate embrace. Ruby’s hands were cupping Ariel’s backside and Ariel’s hands looked to have stolen under Ruby’s crop top.

“What?” she managed to gasp out.

Ruby and Ariel sprang apart, both looking up at Belle guiltily. Ariel had Ruby’s signature bright red lipstick smeared across her lips and Ruby’s hair had partially fallen from the clips holding it back from her face.

The three of them stood in the hallway, just staring at each other, for a solid twenty seconds before Ariel finally spoke.

“Things didn’t go so well with SeaMan27,” she deadpanned.

“I can see that,” Belle replied.

“I called Ruby to kick him in the balls,” Ariel continued.

“Oh.”

“We didn’t plan this,” Ruby said.

“Okay.”

Silence reigned again until Belle’s appearance registered with Ariel.

“Oh my God,” she exclaimed. “What happened to you? Were you attacked?”

Belle looked down at her flour-covered clothing.

“Baking accident,” she said.

Ruby narrowed her eyes, skimming them over Belle’s form and lingering on her neck.

“Is that a hickey?” she asked, stepping forward to move Belle’s hair away from her neck. Belle took a step backward, blushing.

“No!”

“Oh my God,” Ariel gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. “Did you and Gary hook up in the kitchen? Ew!”

“No,” Belle said truthfully. The hickey definitely hadn’t come from Gary.

Ruby raised an eyebrow. “It wasn’t Gary,” she said knowingly.

Ariel looked back and forth between Ruby and Belle until she caught on.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, her eyes widening. “It wasn’t Gary!”

She paused, looking back to Ruby.

“Who was it?”

Ruby crossed her arms against her chest. “I’ll let Belle fill you in on that one.”

Ariel looked at her expectantly and Belle gave an exhausted sigh. She’d had a long day, it was late, and she was sticky between her thighs from all the illicit kitchen sex she’d just had. She just wanted to go home.

“It was Mr. Gold, okay?”

Ariel gave an almost comical gasp, actually hopping in surprise.

“Oh my Lord,” she exclaimed. “He’s married! And so are you!”

“Yes, I know. It was a mis…” she broke off, unable to commit to the lie. “No. You know what? It wasn’t a mistake. It was the best decision I’ve made all week. All month. All year. I’m glad I did it and I’ll probably do it again. I’m not going to apologize for finding just a little bitty bit of happiness in my life.”

Ruby and Ariel just stared at her for another long moment. Eventually, Ariel nodded.

“Good for you.”

“Really?” Belle asked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Ariel agreed. “I always thought Gary was a dick. And I don’t know Mr. Gold all that well but he’s got to be a step up. I say go for it.”

“Thanks,” Belle said, oddly touched at her friend’s support.

“He’s got a kid,” Ruby interjected. “And so do you. Well, sort of.”

“And?” Belle asked. It wasn’t as though she was unaware of that fact. The existence of Gold’s family haunted her every waking thought. If only they’d met years ago. If only Milah and Gary had never crossed their respective paths.

Ruby raised her hands up defensively. “I’m not saying anything one way or the other I just thought you could use the reminder.”

“I’m well aware, thanks,” Belle snapped. Tense silence followed and Belle pressed her knees together self-consciously. She knew she was being stupid, that this thing with Gold could only lead to heartbreak. She knew that she loved him and despite his proclamation that she mattered to him, it was a far cry from reciprocating her feelings. She knew he had a wife and a son and a life that she had no part in. She knew all of those things and she didn’t need her best friend pointing them out.

Belle shook her head. She had no right to be angry with Ruby when the person she was really angry with was herself.

“Are we going to discuss what was happening here?” she asked, motioning between her two friends. They looked at each other for a moment before Ariel glanced away, blushing.

“It’s late and we were hungry so we came here for a snack,” Ruby said.

“And decided to snack on each other in mean time?”

“Hey we didn’t judge you!” Ariel snapped.

“I’m not judging,” Belle said, holding her hands up. “I was just surprised. I never knew you two were…”

“Lesbians?” Ruby supplied.

“I’m not!” Ariel exclaimed. “I don’t think so anyway. I mean, I like boys, I just think I like girls too.”

“I am,” Ruby said with a shrug. The other two turned to look at her. “What? We’re all being honest tonight.”

“Honesty is good,” Belle said even as she was lying to nearly everyone in her life. At least there were no secrets with Ruby and Ariel any longer.

“So we’re all good here?” Ruby asked, looking back and forth between Ariel and Belle. “I mean we’re all friends no matter what, right?”

“Of course,” Belle said, squeezing Ruby’s shoulder.

Ruby pulled her in to a hug, burying her face in her flour-dusted hair. Belle could feel Ariel’s arms wrap around her from behind, joining in on the group hug. A moment later, Ruby pulled back, looking down at Belle with her nose scrunched up. She’d always had a weirdly keen sense of smell.

“Go freshen up. You smell like sex and pastry.” 

* * *

 

Three months later, little had changed other than Ruby and Ariel’s relationship status and Belle’s expanding waistline. The two friends had been more or less dating since the night of Ariel’s failed date and, try as she might, Belle couldn’t help feeling like a third wheel when they were all together these days.

Not that she had the chance to spend much time with them outside of work. Belle was picking up every shift she could just to make ends meet and hopefully have a little left over.

She’d managed to save up a bit of money, hiding small stashes of cash throughout the apartment. She couldn’t keep it all in one place lest Gary stumble upon it and confiscate it. So she had $25 in an envelope in the back of the pantry, $40 hidden in a box of tampons under the sink, $50 underneath her bras in her underwear drawer, and even a few bills tucked into the pages of her favorite books. All places Gary would never look.

But after three months, it was still barely enough to afford a bus ticket out of town.

Despite his promises, and a few days pounding the pavement, finding a job had proved more elusive than Gary had predicted and he’d mostly given up, spending his days lazing away on the couch or else down at the Rabbit Hole with his friends. Belle’s wages were going toward necessities and she had little enough left over to squirrel away.

And Belle was having conflicted feelings about leaving anyway.

She and Max had continued their clandestine relationship, meeting up whenever they could manage to steal away from their lives and their spouses. It wasn’t ideal, but it was theirs. It seemed neither one of them wanted to rock the boat by proposing more, no matter how Belle wished for it.

She’d been so focused on leaving Gary, but now it was becoming apparent she would be leaving Max as well. No matter how badly she wanted out of Storybrooke, she couldn’t help but feel a sharp pain beneath her ribs at the thought.

But none of that conflict mattered much if she didn’t even have the option of leaving. There was also the uncomfortable thought of how much money she and Gary owed Max and how little chance they had of ever repaying it. The power imbalance inherent in their affair grew every month that passed without paying him back. 

And then, one evening as the dinner rush was dying down, Belle’s salvation came in the form of a flyer.

“Belle,” Granny barked from the kitchen. “A moment of your time?”

Belle grabbed the tub of dirty dishes from the table she was clearing and scurried after Granny. She wasn’t sure what she might have done to earn the old woman’s ire but it was best not to keep her waiting. Granny might be too kind hearted to ever actually fire her, but she could still give a good tongue lashing when she was displeased.

“Is there something you needed?” she asked, setting the tub of dirty dishes down next to the large industrial sink.

Granny gave her a hard stare for a moment before turning away.

“You’re a talented baker, Belle,” she said, busying herself with loading the dishwasher.

“Oh,” Belle said, quirking an eyebrow. Whatever she’d expected from Granny, this certainly wasn’t it. “Thank you?”

“Don’t be modest,” she said. “You know it too. Your pies are about the only thing you have any confidence in.”

Belle felt the sting of that comment. She’d lost herself somewhere in the past nine years of being Gary’s girl. But she thought she was finding herself again, little by little.

“You’re even better than you think you are,” Granny said plainly. “You’re too much for this place or that man. I think deep down you know it too but you’ve let people push you down for so long and so often that you’ve started to believe them. But all you need in order to realize your potential is an opportunity, and I've found you one.”

Belle raised an eyebrow in question, still a little dumbstruck by Granny's compliments.

“Here,” Granny said, pushing a piece of paper into her hands. “The State Fair Pie Contest in Bangor. The grand prize is $20,000. I hear last year’s winner managed to buy herself a food truck called “Rollin’ Bayou”. It’s been so successful she’s opening a permanent shop specializing in beignets or some such.”

Belle looked down at the bright gold flyer in her hands, a drawing of a lattice cherry pie in one corner, calling for entries of all stripes into the contest.

“Twenty thousand dollars,” she said breathlessly. She couldn’t even imagine such a sum of money. It would be plenty to set her up in a new life somewhere far away from here. Belle didn’t much believe in signs from the universe, but if she did, this would be a glaring one. She had enough stashed away for a bus ticket to Bangor. It was only a little over an hour away so she could get there and back in one day. Gary would never even know she’d left town.

Belle was overcome by the possibility of it all, by the sheer breathlessness she felt at allowing herself to hope, and by the crushing realization that hope only made things hurt more in the long run.

“Granny,” she said, shaking her head and handing the flyer back to her. “I couldn’t. I mean I’m not going to win. I’m no Sara Lee.”

“Hogwash,” Granny spat, crossing her arms and refusing to take back the flyer. “I won’t stand for that kind of talk, not in my kitchen. You could win this, but the only way you’ll ever know is if you try.”

Belle took the flyer back, folding it and placing it in her front pocket. Granny was right. She would never know if she didn’t try. And what did she have to lose?

“Thank you, Granny,” she said earnestly. She did appreciate the older woman looking out for her.

“Take it from an old woman,” Granny said, a rare smile gracing her face. “There’s something special in you and you need to chase it.” 

* * *

 

The flyer weighed heavily in her pocket for the rest of the night. Belle hadn’t let herself dream in years and the lure of it was too hard to resist. Leaving Gary and raising her child in peace was as far as she would let her fantasies wander. The idea of one day owning her own pie shop had never crossed her mind, not since she was little more than a child.

She’d been forced for years to think no further down the line than the next moment. Dreams were dangerous, in her experience. They only led to failure and crushed hopes. But a dream was also a soft place to land.

By 9:00 the diner was mostly empty, just Belle and Anton left to man the kitchen. It was half an hour until closing when the bell rang, signaling their last table of the night. Belle was slouched against the counter, nursing a cup of half caff coffee to keep herself awake while staring down at the flyer, and she straightened up, turning to see Milah and Neal Gold enter and take one of the many empty booths. Neal looked subdued, his mother not much better, and Belle’s stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch.

She stuffed the creased flyer into her pocket, heading over to their table with a sense of doom and wishing for all the world that Ruby hadn’t gone home early.

“Hi, Belle,” Neal said with a small smile as she approached.

“Hi, Neal,” she replied. “How’s the season going?”

Neal shrugged. “Alright. We lost our last two games but we’ve got a tournament this weekend so maybe we can redeem ourselves.”

Milah was looking back and forth between them, her mouth slightly agape.

“I’m sorry,” she interrupted. “But how do the two of you know each other?”

“The team comes here a lot after games,” Neal supplied, looking down at his menu. “Belle makes really great pie.”

“So I’ve heard,” Milah said, casting an eye over Belle. She felt as though she was being sized up.

“Well, Neal,” Milah said, picking at the edge of the plastic covered menu in front of her. “You insisted on coming here so go ahead and order, please.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for papa?” Neal asked and Belle’s heart plummeted. She couldn’t wait on them all together, the whole blasted family. Max came to the diner by himself almost every morning for breakfast. Neal came in with his friends or his baseball team frequently. Occasionally Max and Neal would come together for dinner. But she’d never served the entire Gold family at once.

“Your father is running late, he said to order without him.”

“Oh, um, then a cheeseburger I guess,” Neal said, deflating slightly in his seat.

Belle jotted the order down. “Extra pickles?” she asked and Neal smiled at her.

“You remembered.”

It was easy enough to remember. Neal and his father had a tendency to order their burgers the exact same way.

Belle could feel Milah’s judgmental eye on her again and she turned toward her.

“And for you, Mrs. Gold?” she asked.

“Iced tea with lemon,” she said, handing Belle her menu. “Nothing to eat, thanks.”

Belle nodded, stalking off to the bar to get Milah’s iced tea and wondering if there was any hell worse than being forced to wait on the rather unpleasant wife of the man you were currently fucking upwards of three times a week.

Belle shut her eyes, resting her head against the large metal tea dispenser as she filled a glass. She was definitely going to hell but it might be a respite after real life.

The bell on the diner door jingled again and Belle cringed, knowing who had entered without looking. Sure enough, when she turned around, Max was standing in the doorway staring at the booth that held his family with wide eyes.

He glanced at Belle, an apologetic look crossing his face, before he walked over to them.

“Milah,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were joining us.”

“Where else would I be?” she said cheerfully. “I wanted to have a celebratory dinner with my two favorite guys.”

Gold looked unconvinced, sliding in to the seat beside Neal.

Belle was standing there dumbly, a filled glass of ice tea in her hand as she blatantly stared at the Golds. Finally she snapped in to action, bringing the tea to the table and setting it in front of Milah with a straw.

“Mrs. Stone,” Max said, nodding toward Belle. His eyes lingered on her face a little too long and she felt her cheeks warm. A quick glance to her left showed Milah staring daggers at her.

“Can I get you anything, Mr. Gold?” she asked quickly.

“The usual,” he said.

“Of course.” Cheeseburger, extra pickles, ketchup on the side. The same order as Neal.

“You have a _usual_?” Milah asked mockingly.

Belle scurried away to the kitchen to put Gold’s order in, watching him surreptitiously through the round window in the kitchen door.

Max and Milah were speaking in hushed voices and Neal looked increasingly uncomfortable, sinking into his seat as though hoping he could disappear. She felt for him. She knew only too well what it was like to be a child caught between two unhappy parents. She wondered for the thousandth time what kept the Gold’s together. She knew Max was miserable and Milah certainly didn’t seem happy. If they’d stayed together for Neal’s sake she rather thought they’d done more harm than good. It wasn’t her place to ask. Inquiring why someone would stay in a dead marriage was a little too pot calling the kettle black for her taste.

She looked down at her wedding ring, twisting it around her left ring finger and feeling the flyer in her pocket like it was a hot coal, burning through the fabric of her skirt to singe her skin. No, she would be a hypocrite to ask why Max wasn’t divorced.

“Order up,” Anton said far too soon, and Belle sighed.

She grabbed the burgers, heading back out to the table and placed them in front of Neal and Max. An icy silence had descended on the table and Belle felt even more uncomfortable, as though she’d intruded on some personal family drama that shouldn’t be shared in public. Neal forced a smile of gratitude that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Why thank you, Belle,” Max said, his eyes flicking up from his plate to meet hers. “This looks delicious.”

Milah let out a snort. “It’s not as though she made it.”

“My compliments to the chef then,” Max said and Milah sat back in her seat, crossing her arms against her chest.

“Can I get you anything else?” Belle asked. She was met with silence from Milah and a stiff headshake from Neal. Max gave her a tight smile.

“No, thank you. Everything looks wonderful.”

Belle nodded. “Let me know if you need anything,” she said before scurrying off to the relative sanctuary of the bathroom.

She breathed a sigh of relief, leaning against the bathroom sink and staring at her reflection. She looked pale, dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. At five months pregnant, her belly had finally popped. There was no hiding her pregnancy anymore, the little bump jutting out proudly beneath her apron. She had started to feel the baby move in the past few weeks, just the occasional little nudge. It was strange to feel something foreign moving inside your own body, like it didn’t quite belong to just her anymore.

Belle shook her head. She wasn’t sure what Max had ever seen in her and certainly not now. She was tired and sad and now to top it all off she was getting fat. Her blue eyes looked weary in the mirror, older than her twenty-six years. She patted a hand against the flyer in her pocket and made her decision.

She was entering that damn contest. She was changing her life now, while she still had time. She loved Max, but she needed to love herself more. She couldn’t stay in this town just for a man who was fighting his own battles and might never truly be available to her.

She took another deep breath before washing her hands and leaving the bathroom, already reviewing her catalogue of pies for which one stood the best chance of winning.

She was mentally debating whether it was too early to get the crispest apples for her mother’s decadent bourbon apple streusel pie when a shadow loomed in front of her.

“Hello, dear,” Milah said, cornering her between the entrance to the diner and bathrooms. She couldn’t reasonably escape save running back in and hiding herself in the stall.

Milah had a pleasant smile on her face, her head cocked to the side slightly. She’d look perfectly friendly if not the hard edge to her blue eyes.

“Mrs. Gold,” she replied, ducking her head, attempting to fade into the background of the diner.

“I’m not stupid, you know,” she said. “And despite what Maxwell has undoubtedly told you, I’m not heartless either.”

Belle felt her heart lodge somewhere in her throat, her voice choking as she tried to speak.

“I—I don’t know what you’re…”

“Oh, cut the bullshit,” Milah said, dropping the friendly act completely. “I know exactly what you’re doing making doe-eyes at my husband, blushing every time he looks your way. You think you’re the first reasonably attractive woman to think she can ensnare a wealthy, older man? I practically wrote the book on it.”

Belle wasn’t sure what to say to that. Anything she could think of would just incriminate both her and Max further.

“There’s a special place in hell for women who steal other women’s husbands,” Milah hissed.

“I haven’t stolen anything,” Belle said truthfully. Max hadn’t left Milah. She’d never asked him to and she knew she never would.

Milah continued as though she hadn’t heard her.

“Now, I’m not stupid enough to believe your pathetic attempts at flirting are genuine interest, but my husband is. If he’s had his fun, that’s all well and good, but you will break things off and soon.”

“There’s nothing going on between me and your husband,” Belle said coldly.

“You’re a piss poor liar, has anyone ever told you that?”

“If there were,” Belle spoke over her, her voice hard. “If I was lucky enough to attract the attention of someone as good and decent and kind as your husband, I would consider myself a very fortunate woman. The fact that you’ve had him all these years and failed to realize his true worth is on you, not me.”

She moved to step around Milah, completely done with this conversation but the other woman grabbed her by the wrist, halting her progress.

“If that little parasite growing in your belly somehow ends up with my husband’s name on the birth certificate, there will be hell to pay for you _and_ it.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Belle said, shaking Milah’s hand off.

“Oh, no. You’re not afraid of anything, are you dear?” Milah said, a cruel little smirk crossing her face and chilling Belle’s blood.

She didn’t linger. Storming back in to the dining room, she dropped the check off with Gold and Neal before heading back to the kitchen to fume over Milah's threats. Perhaps she shouldn't have fallen in love with a married man, but Milah couldn't even recognize how lucky she was. Belle would have given anything for a husband half as devoted to his family as Gold had tried to be to his.  

She’d been pushed around her whole life, first by her father and then by Gary. She’d be damned if she submitted to one more moment of abuse. No one was going to decide Belle’s fate but her.

There was a little nudge from inside her belly, a foot or an elbow she couldn’t be certain. She dropped her hand to caress it, feeling the little kick against her palm.

Her child would never experience what she had. It would only know love. She was going to win that pie contest, the $20,000 prize, and change both of their fates.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter Belle and Gold have a long overdue conversation, Gary finds employment, and Milah drops a bombshell. 
> 
> Unfortunately that chapter probably won't be posted until after RCIJ because I have been badly neglecting that fic in favor of this one. So please be patient!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If this chapter feels a little incomplete, it's because it got cut in two. There was way too much going on for one chapter. 
> 
> Trigger warning on this chapter for domestic violence.

Belle woke up early the following morning, heading in to the diner early to set aside some of the ingredients for her pie experiments. She made a few deep dish blueberry pies for the day's special before pulling out her mother’s old notebook filled with her recipes.

There wasn’t much to go on. Her mom had never been great about transcribing her recipes in any sort of coherent way. There were rarely accurate measurements of ingredients written down and bake times were “until golden brown” or “until you wash off all the dirty dishes”. Belle didn’t mind. She’d spent enough time in the kitchen with her mother to interpret her vague recipes and she liked to put her own spin on things anyway.

By the time Ruby and Granny arrived at the diner, she’d narrowed her selections down to her mother’s Razzle Dazzle raspberry cream cheese pie, her Checkmate Checkerboard Peanut Butter pie and a new creation she was calling the "Spicy Rumplestiltskin pie", spiced rum and pumpkin topped with edible gold leaf. She figured her best bet was to make all of them and then ask her diner patrons for their opinion. It wasn’t as though anyone would turn down free pie. Or she could let Max make the final decision. He had long been her biggest fan as far as her baking was concerned.

Belle bit her lip as her thoughts turned to Max. Milah knew the truth, or at least suspected it. She wasn’t afraid of Milah. She didn’t think the other woman would go public with her suspicions as they concerned her private life as well. She seemed to want Belle to go away quietly more than anything else. If Belle won this contest, Milah would likely get her wish. As always, that thought sent a pain straight through her heart.

She couldn’t ask Max to come with her. He had a child, a life, here in Storybrooke. And she couldn’t stay and be free from Gary. No, the best she could hope for was to enjoy the time she had left with Max and then pack up all her love for him in a little box, store it way in the back of her mind and hope that one day after it had gathered dust and was decrepit with age, it would disappear altogether. Unfortunately, she couldn’t see that happening.

After the dinner rush that night, she retreated to her corner of the kitchen to bake the Razzle Dazzle and Checkmate Checkerboard pies. Then she stood puzzling over the right ratios of rum to pumpkin for her Spicy Rumplestiltskin. By the time the diner closed, she was on her third version, still not satisfied with the outcome.

At 10:30, Max snuck in the back door as was typical for Friday nights. He peeked over Belle’s shoulder as she rolled out her crust.

“What are you working on?”

“Something new,” she said excitedly. “I don’t know if it’s going to work or not, but you can be my guinea pig and tell me how it tastes.”

“I look forward to getting a taste of your pie,” Max said, nuzzling her neck, his arms going around her from behind.

Belle giggled, shrugging him off but brushing a kiss against his cheek in apology.

“I don’t have a moment to waste,” she said, skirting around Max to grab the cinnamon from the pantry. “I have to perfect this pie by next week.”

“Why the deadline?”

Belle dusted her hands off on her apron, pulling the flyer from her pocket and smoothing it out on the countertop.

“Pie contest at the state fair at the end of the month,” she said, jabbing her finger against the paper. “The grand prize is $20,000. I need to figure out which pie I’m making by next week so I can have a solid week perfecting it.”

Max let out a low whistle, picking up the flyer to read it over. “Well, you’re sure to win no matter what you make.”

Belle smiled at him, patting her hand against his cheek. “That’s sweet but it’s also not true. The competition is stiff. I have to make something positively scrumptious.”

“Then you should cover yourself in whipped cream and cherry compote, because I can’t imagine anything more scrumptious than you,” he said, flirting shamelessly.

Belle raised an eyebrow. “Somehow I think that would get me disqualified.”

Max snorted, going to look at the razzle dazzle and checkerboard pies on the counter.

“And these are?” he asked, giving her a lopsided smile.

“For you,” Belle said with a nod. “A taste test. You get to decide which pie should be entered in the contest.”

Max placed a hand against his chest, his face suddenly solemn. “I will take to my task with all the dignity bestowed upon my office.”

Belle chuckled, rolling her eyes as Max helped himself to a slice of the peanut butter pie.

He let out a groan at the first bite of pie, his head lolling back with a look of bliss on his face.

“This is the one,” he said, gesturing at the pie with his fork.

“How can you be sure? You haven’t even tried the others?”

Max took another bite, another obscene noise coming from him that was a bit too close to the sounds he made when her mouth was around his cock.

“It only takes a taste, Belle,” he said.

“Well, I want you to try the Spicy Rumple when it’s perfected. Then we’ll see.”

Max coughed. “The what?”

“Oh,” Belle said, blushing slightly as she poured Captain Morgan into the pumpkin mixture she was preparing. “It’s what I’ve named this pie. The Spicy Rumplestiltskin. Seemed to fit.”

Max actually laughed aloud at that.

“With a name like that, how could you lose?”

Belle cast a smile over her shoulder, going back to mixing the rum and pumpkin.

“If I win, it’ll be enough money to afford a new life somewhere far away from here,” she said offhandedly.

Gold had gone very still and Belle glanced over her shoulder at him. He swallowed, setting down his pie.

“And me,” he said.

They hadn’t discussed their feelings for each other, not really. There was something there, an understanding that neither had dared give name to. Belle knew in the very depths of her soul that she loved him. But she also knew there was no future for them, not here, not in this town.

“I can’t stay here,” she said plainly, shaking her head.

“Why not?”

Belle turned to look at him, silently pleading for him not to make her answer that question. She couldn’t tell him the truth, not the whole of it. She couldn’t tell him that she feared Gary would snap again like he had the night he found out she was pregnant. She couldn’t tell him that she feared to raise a child in a home with such violence, the same way she had been raised. She couldn’t tell him that Gary would kill her rather than let her go. She couldn’t burden him with that. She loved him too much to let him know how wretched she truly was.

“Would you leave Milah?” she asked instead. “Would you ask for a divorce so we could be together? No more hiding, Max. We could go on a date. Kiss in public. We could let everyone know we’re together. Would you leave her?”

She knew the answer even as she asked it. If Max wanted out of his marriage, he’d have done so already. He didn’t have any of the reasons to stay that Belle did. He was financially secure, had a job that could support both he and his child. Milah could be callous and cruel but Belle doubted she’d strangle Max to death if he served her with divorce papers. He had the type of freedom she could only dream of and yet he stayed.

Max closed his eyes, turning his face away from Belle.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper.

She knew the answer was coming and it still didn’t stop her heart from breaking, the feeling utterly foreign. It felt as though she couldn’t breathe, a hand pushing down on her chest and squeezing until her lungs flattened and her heart burst.

She nodded, tears springing to her eyes. This was why they didn’t talk about their feelings. This was why it was so much easier to leave things at the physical. It hurt too damn much to love someone who couldn’t or wouldn’t feel the same.

“I can’t stay and you can’t leave,” Belle said sadly. “What a doomed pair we are.”

“You can stay,” Gold insisted, turning back to her.

“And what?” Belle demanded. “Be your kept woman? Go from one set of shackles to a new shinier pair?”

“No!” Gold protested.

“Then what, Max?” she asked. “What exactly are you proposing? I’m supposed to stay here in town with my ex-husband and my baby and you’ll try to steal away from your family to give me a few moments of your time a week? Because that doesn’t work for me.”

“That’s not what I want,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Then leave her!” she snapped.

Max stared at her, his mouth falling open. She’d never been so forceful before. Never demanded anything of him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. “I have no right to demand that. You never made me any promises.”

“Belle…” he said, his voice achingly tender. He reached for her, his hand sliding down her arm and she shook him off, ignoring the hurt in his eyes. 

“I’m not stupid,” she continued. “I know men don’t leave their wives for women like me.”

“That’s not it,” he protested. “Sweetheart you’re…everything.”

A wet bubble of laughter erupted from her throat, sounding slightly hysterical to her ears. She wasn’t everything. She was barely something, clinging to it with her fingernails before she became nothing.

“I planned to,” Max said. “Leave her. Once Neal graduated from high school we’d get a divorce and I’d be free to do as I wanted but…things have changed.”

Belle took a deep breath, looking up at Max from beneath her wet lashes. It didn't mean much. Two years might as well be a lifetime. She had to get out now, no matter what. But now even the hope of coming back for him in two years time was being yanked away. 

“What? What things?”

Max licked his lips, staring down at the handle of his cane, held loosely in his grip. It seemed as though he’d rather do anything than answer her.

“Milah’s pregnant,” he said finally.

Belle dropped the spoon in her hand. It landed on the kitchen floor with a splatter of pumpkin, punctuating the bombshell he’d just dropped.

Belle thought back to the time she’d seen Milah in the OBGYN’s office the day of her first appointment. Could she have been pregnant all this time? Milah didn't look pregnant, while Belle had ballooned with the baby in her belly. But that could be a case of losing the genetic lottery on top of every other loss she’d sustained in her life.

“I – I thought you said the two of you hadn’t been intimate in…” she trailed off. She’d no right to be jealous. She was married as well.

“We haven’t,” he said miserably. “Milah knows exactly what she’s doing, alright? Neal is a sophomore in high school and she knows I’ve only stayed this long for him. A few years ago, before I gave up smoking, I had a cancer scare. My doctor advised me to bank any sperm if I planned to have more children. Milah apparently visited the doctor without my knowledge.”

“She impregnated herself to keep you?” Belle asked, aghast.

Gold nodded.

“Max, do you know how insane that sounds? That’s…that’s…” she trailed off, unable to find the words. She knew Milah would do whatever she could to keep Max tethered to her. She’d seen it first hand. But she could never have imagined this.

“A few months ago she tried to get it done the old fashioned way,” Max said, leaning back against one of the kitchen countertops. “But I refused her. It was the night we came to Granny’s, just the two of us. I knew she wanted something from me I just wasn’t sure what. I thought she was offering sex in exchange for something monetary but I suppose she really just wanted me to get her pregnant.”

Belle shook her head again, as if denying this news could somehow make it go away.

“You’re an attorney, surely there’s some legal recourse for her doing this without your knowledge.”

Max looked miserable, defeated. He weighed his cane in one hand looking for all the world as though he wanted to smash it against something.

“None of that changes the fact that she’s pregnant with my child,” he said.

“And couples with children divorce all the time,” Belle pointed out. “If this isn’t grounds for a divorce I don’t know what is.”

“And look what it does to those children. I grew up in a broken home and I don’t want to do that to any child of mine.”

“So raising a child together when you’re both miserable is a better option?”

“Raising a child with both their parents is the better option. When you’re a parent, you can’t just be selfish!” he yelled. Then he motioned at her baby bump. “Maybe soon you’ll understand that.”

Belle dropped a hand to her stomach, shielding herself and her child from his words.

“Why do you think I’m leaving?” she demanded. “Because my child deserves better than to have Gary imposed on them from birth. I didn’t plan for them and I didn’t want them, but they’re mine and I have a duty to protect them. If I was selfish, I would stay.”

Gold looked cowed by her words, but there was a fire inside Belle’s breast and it had to escape somehow. She was so tired of everyone else thinking they knew what was best for her. She knew her own mind, her heart, and if she didn’t let it out now, she would burst into flame.

“You think I don’t understand what it means to sacrifice for a child?” she cried. “What I understand is that my father drank. I understand that he came home at least twice a week and yelled at my mother, threw her on the ground, choked her, beat her if he was angry enough. What I understand is hiding in my bedroom closet when they would fight. What I understand is that I would have given anything, absolutely _anything_ , for my mother to have left him and I will give up everything to keep my child from experiencing one moment of what I had to deal with. Even you.”

She spun around, staring at the scorch marks on the large, industrial grill. She couldn’t look at him anymore.

“Belle,” he said tentatively. “Does he…does Gary…does he” he trailed off as if too horrified to give voice to the question.

“No,” she lied, crossing her arms against her chest. “But abuse doesn’t have to make you bleed does it?”

He let out a sigh, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know it was that bad. You should leave him.”

“I intend to,” Belle agreed. “And you should leave her too. Not for me. For yourself.”

Max looked stricken, his eyes falling from her face to the linoleum floor. He traced the black and white squares with the end of his cane, lost in his own thoughts.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he finally said, sadly. “She’s pregnant with my child. I can’t abandon them.”

“No,” Belle agreed, shaking her head. “That’s not the kind of man you are.”

They stared at each other, neither speaking, for a long moment. It felt as though this were the end of something. That some final decision was about to be made and there would be no going back. Neither of them were quite prepared to let go.

“They’re lucky to have you,” Belle said, breaking the silence. “Neal and this new baby. They’re really lucky to have a father who cares so much about them.”

Her voice broke on her words and she turned away, not wanting Max to see her tears.

She felt his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs stroking lightly through her shirt, and she took a shuddering breath.

"I guess this is why we've avoided this conversation," she said, swiping away the tears. 

"It's a difficult one," he said. His hands slid down across her shoulder blades, settling on her hips as he buried his face in her hair, breathing her in. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart." 

She turned in his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and reaching up to kiss him. It was a gentle thing, a brush of lips, the slide of her tongue along the seam of his lips. He kissed her back, the salt of her tears clinging to their lips. Before she was ready to, Belle pulled away, pressing her forehead against his and closing her eyes. 

"I love you," she whispered, her voice soft in the otherwise empty kitchen.

Max's hands tightened on her hips as he dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. "Oh, Belle, I love you too." 

She swallowed a sob. If he didn't love her, this would have been so much easier to do. 

"Maybe somewhere out there is a universe where we could be together," she said, her hands twisting in the lapels of his suit jacket. "But this one isn't it." 

"What?" he asked, his voice tremulous. "What are you saying?" 

"You love your children," she said with a nod, looking up at him. "More than you love me which is exactly as it should be. And I've taken you away from them long enough." 

"No," Max said, shaking his head, holding a finger up to his lips as though he could silence her and save himself the pain. 

"I love you," she cried, hoping she could say it enough to soften the blow of what she was doing. She wanted Max to know he was loved, that he was worthy of it no matter how Milah had spent decades trying to convince him otherwise. “But you have a baby coming and I have a pie to make.”

She pulled out of his arms, going back to her pie. "Go home, Mr. Gold," she said, her voice final. 

She focused on whipping the drunken rum topping for her pie, barely hearing the scuffle of Max's cane or the slam of the kitchen door as he left. The tears continued to fall and she added a pinch of salt to the pumpkin, folding in her sadness and broken dreams. Once she'd placed the pie in the oven, leaning back against the kitchen island, her chest felt less tight, her feelings baking away in sugar, butter covered pieces. It was amazing what baking could do.

* * *

 

She didn’t cross paths with Max again for a week, which was probably for the best. They each had too much going on in their own lives for any kind of constructive conversation to happen between them. Instead of crying over him, Belle poured her anger and frustration and sadness into her baking, finally getting the Spicy Rumplestiltskin up to scratch. She offered Ruby a piece as her new designated taste tester and Ruby’s knees buckled at the first bite as she declared it “better than sex”. Ariel took offense at that until she’d tried a piece as well.

“I see fireworks!” she exclaimed as she fell back onto a diner stool, her cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling.

Granny had been less effusive, taking a bite and declaring it adequate. But Belle had caught her sneaking a second slice of pie during her lunch break.

With her pie perfected, all there was left to do was wait for the big day and Belle had never been so nervous about anything in all her life. Ruby and Ariel had decided a girls’ night was in order to take her mind off things and organized a get together at Ariel’s apartment the Thursday before the State Fair. She was looking forward to a little time with her friends and she rushed home from the diner that evening, hoping to change and make Gary a quick dinner before she could escape the apartment again.

She’d pulled out all the ingredients for spaghetti Bolognese, chopping garlic and onion as she browned her ground beef. She had the sauce simmering, digging around for her pasta pot to start on the noodles, when Gary walked in.

“Smells good,” he said as he grabbed a beer from the fridge, prying off the top and tossing it at the trashcan.

“Thanks,” Belle said, surfacing with her pot and carrying it over to the sink. She was feeling almost light hearted today. She felt good about her chances in the contest and she had a night with friends planned. Her bus ticket to Bangor was booked, and she was so close to escaping Gary she could taste it. She knew that kind of hope was a dangerous thing, but she couldn’t help it from buoying her spirits, no matter how her heart ached at the thought of never seeing Max again.

“I had an interesting day today,” Gary said, sucking down a long sip of beer.

“Oh?” Belle asked distractedly, going to fill her pot with water from the kitchen tap.

“Yeah, do you know Milah Gold?” he asked. Belle nearly dropped the half filled pot in the sink.

“Um, I’ve seen her around but I wouldn’t say I know her. Why?”

Gary shrugged. “She’s a real nice lady. Talked to her a few days ago.”

Belle finished filling the pot, placing it on the lit burner and adding some salt to the water.

“Why were you talking to Milah Gold?”

Gary waggled an eyebrow at her, his lips turning up in a cruel smirk. “Is that jealousy I hear?” he asked.

“No,” Belle said, turning back to her dinner preparations.

Gary leaned back against the counter, crossing his beefy arms across his chest.

“Eh, no need anyway. I’m pretty sure Gold would evict us if I was sleeping with his wife.”

Belle swallowed. “No doubt.”

“She’s knocked up anyway,” he continued, oblivious to Belle’s inner turmoil. “Due not long after you are, but she’s way skinnier than you.”

Belle rolled her eyes, ignoring the jab.

“So…what did she want?” she prompted.

“She gave me a lead on a job,” Gary said, taking another swig from his beer. “A friend of hers works down on the docks and needs an extra hand. It’s good money, and she said the job's mine, pending a physical.”

Belle nodded, her heart in her throat. What the hell was Milah doing meddling in their lives?

“I guess she heard I was looking for work and went out of her way to help,” Gary said and Belle just nodded again, staring down into the pot of water and wondering what else Milah might have said to Gary. He didn’t seem angry so it was possible she hadn’t said anything about her suspicions about Belle’s relationship with Max. But she knew too well that Gary could turn on a dime and it was unusual enough for him to talk her ear off while she cooked.

“I thought you’d be more excited,” Gary said, coming to stand behind Belle at the stove. “The way you’ve been nagging me about a job.”

“I am excited,” Belle said, snapping out of her stupor and reaching for the box of pasta to add to the boiling water. Gary caught her hand, stopping her.

“Forget about cooking,” he said, his deep voice rumbling in her ear, the heat of his body oppressive against her back. “Let me take you out tonight to celebrate.”

Belle shook her head. “I can’t,” she said. “Ariel is having a few girls over, remember? You said I could go.”

“Right,” Gary griped, stepping back from her. Belle took a deep breath once there was distance between them, pouring the pasta into the water.

“I don’t like those girls you work with,” he said. “Bunch of sluts especially that Ruby. They’re a bad influence. Now that I got a new job maybe you should quit yours. Stay at home baking pies for _me_.”

Belle knew better than to protest, just stood there over the stove, her heart beating faster and hoping Gary would just leave the kitchen. Luck obviously wasn’t on her side tonight as Gary finished off his beer, putting the empty bottle down on the counter before grabbing another one from the fridge.

“You don’t have the job yet,” she said, latching on to his earlier words. “You said it was pending a physical.”

She didn’t doubt Gary would pass with flying colors. Despite his heavy drinking, he was in fantastic shape. She’d seen some of the guys who worked down at the docks and Gary could probably run circles around them. And she was glad he’d found employment. She didn’t want him to be destitute when she left. She wasn’t vindictive.

“I already had it,” Gary said and Belle spun around to face him. “The job is mine. I start Monday.”

“Oh,” Belle said, her brow creasing. “Then why not lead with that?”

Gary chuckled, shaking his head lightly. He pushed himself away from the counter, coming toward Belle and tilting her face up to look at him, his fingers lightly gripping her chin.

“Because I wanted to ask you a question first, darling,” Gary said, his grip tightening on her chin until it was painful.

Belle froze, her eyes widening.

Gary bent down so he was on eye level with her, his breath fanning out across her face and reeking of beer. She wondered how many he’d had today.

“Just how fucking stupid do you think I am?” he spat, spittle flying from his mouth.

Gone was the man who had lightly ribbed her for jealousy just a few minutes ago and in his place was the monster once more. Belle cursed herself for not realizing. She’d thought Gary seemed off, but she hadn’t listened to her instincts. She should have run the moment he entered the kitchen.

He grabbed Belle by the arms, hauling her against him.

“Answer me, Belle!”

“I don’t think you’re stupid!” she countered, but Gary just gripped her arms harder, shaking her.

“Don’t lie to me!” he roared, throwing her back against the kitchen table so hard it took her breath away. She instinctively dropped a hand to her stomach, shielding her child, but Gary turned away, pacing the kitchen floor.

Milah must have told him something after all. He was waiting, hoping she’d come clean or else playing with her like a cat would a mouse. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Gary knew about her affair and he was going to kill her for it.

Belle’s eyes darted around the kitchen, looking for an avenue of escape or something to defend herself with. Gary was standing between her and the stove. The exit to the living room was to her right, but she’d have to run past Gary to get there.

“What are you talking about?” Belle asked, stalling for time.

Gary rounded on her, eyes flashing.

“I got some interesting news this morning,” he growled out. “The results of my physical.”

Belle shook her head, not comprehending. If this wasn’t about Milah, how could he know? If Gary had found out he had an STD, it didn’t come from her. She’d just had blood work done at her last doctor’s appointment.

“They checked everything, and I mean everything,” Gary continued. “Fucking fruit doctor made me drop my pants and all. But they called today to break some bad news to me. That I’m in perfect health but for one thing: my swimmers don’t work and I’m fucking sterile.”

Belle’s stomach dropped, the room swimming before her eyes. She sagged against the table, unable to believe what she was hearing. This was a complication she’d never foreseen.

“Well, I laughed in their faces and said they must have made a mistake because my wife is pregnant right fucking now,” Gary said with a shake of his head. “I’m so fucking sure you’d never betray me that I’m arguing with the goddamned doctor, Belle! But they said there was definitely no mistake and it’d take a bloody miracle for me to have a baby. So answer me another question. Who the fuck’s baby is that?”

He grabbed her by the wrist, wrenching her forward as he jabbed his finger hard into her swollen abdomen. Belle tried to pull away, but his fingers just dug harder into her wrist, holding her tight.

“It’s yours, Gary, I swear!” she exclaimed. He shoved her hard against the pantry door, the knob digging painfully into her lower back, but Belle didn’t dare move, folding in on herself, trying to make herself as small as possible.

“Goddamn it, Belle!” Gary yelled, grabbing the pot of boiling pasta from the stove behind him and throwing it hard across the room. “Tell me the truth!”

Belle leapt out of the way of the boiling pasta water with a squeal, a few droplets hitting her bare ankle and stinging her skin.

She was trembling. She’d never seen Gary like this before. The closest he’d ever come to hitting her, he’d stopped when she told him she was pregnant. But if he thought this wasn’t his child, there’d be nothing to stop him this time.

She eyed the doorway to the kitchen, wondering if she could get through it quickly enough. But Gary’s hulking form was blocking her way. She was trapped.

“Why would I ever cheat on you?” she asked, appealing to Gary’s pride. She risked taking a step toward him thinking maybe she could make it to the other side of the kitchen if she kept him talking. “You’re the best looking guy in town! Who would I possibly have slept with when I have you?”

Gary’s chest was heaving, his teeth clenched as though he was in physical pain.

“Those doctors are idiots,” she insisted, her hands up in front of her bracingly. “They don’t know anything. If they say it would take a miracle, this is it.”

Gary looked down at her belly then back to her face.

“Promise me you’re telling the truth,” he demanded, his eyes wild. “Promise me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Gary,” she said, the words sinking in to her skin, weighing her down until she felt that she’d never be able to breathe again.

Gary sank to his knees in front of her, gripping on to her hips with both hands.

“I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you, Belle,” he said, burying his face against her belly. “I’d kill myself. I can’t lose you. I love you so damn much.”

Belle shut her eyes, taking a deep breath as a tear slid down her cheek. “I know,” she said, her hands clenching in tight fists at her sides so hard that her nails bit into the skin of her palms.

“Call Ariel,” Gary said, his voice muffled against her shirt.

“What?”

Gary looked up at her, tears in his blue eyes, still clinging to her like a child.

“Call Ariel and tell her you’re not going to make it tonight,” he pleaded. “Tell her we’re celebrating my new job. I need you here, Belle.”

He took her wrist in his hands, pressing a kiss to the red skin where he’d held her so tightly. “I need you,” he said again. "I love you so much, baby."

Belle nodded, numbly. Two more days, she thought. On Saturday she would win that prize money and she would never come back here again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine you might all be a little annoyed with Gold by this point but I hope you find he redeems himself a bit in the next chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the truth comes out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for some canon typical violence in this chapter.

When Belle awoke the next day, her arms were wreathed in bruises from Gary’s fingers. The tenderness at her back told her she was probably bruised where he’d thrown her against the table as well, and there were tiny blisters across her right ankle where the boiling water had splashed her.

Despite the aches and pains, Belle considered herself lucky. For a moment, the night before, she had truly feared for her life. Luckily Gary was easy to talk down if you said what he wanted to hear.

She still wasn’t sure what kind of job physical was invasive enough to tell him he was sterile or how exactly Milah had managed to rig that one, but she knew the other woman was behind it. Maybe Gary wasn’t even sterile in the first place and Milah had just somehow conned the doctor in to telling him that. Maybe she hoped Gary would fly into a rage and murder her, removing her from Max’s life once and for all. Or maybe the universe really was just out to get her. Belle couldn’t dwell on it too much today. She had to keep her head on straight and focus on the competition. She was one day from freedom, only one more day of being Gary's wife, of being a small town waitress. 

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, sending up a little prayer of thanks to whoever might be listening that everywhere she bore the marks of Gary’s anger were easily covered by clothing. He’d never hit her in the face and for that, at least, she was grateful.

She showered and dressed for the day, slipping out of the apartment while Gary’s snores were still echoing from the bedroom. Granny’s was a welcome escape, so much so that she was even earlier than usual, standing outside the diner in the muggy pre-dawn morning as she fumbled in her purse for her key.

It was going to be an unseasonably warm day for August and she was already too warm beneath the wool cardigan she’d pulled on over her Granny’s uniform, a concession to Gary’s handprints on her skin. She didn’t need to flaunt her troubled home life to all her customers.

By the time the sun had fully risen in the sky and Granny, Ruby and Ariel had arrived for the day, the kitchen was absolutely stifling from the heat of the ovens, the one window unit in the diner no match for the heat. Belle had finished baking the cherry pies for the day’s special and set them out in the display cases as Granny flipped on the Open sign.

Ruby had carted down a few fans from the Bed and Breakfast and set one up in the dining room and one at the entrance to the kitchen, trying to get some air circulating. By the time customers started to trickle in for breakfast, it was a bit more bearable but she was still getting odd looks over her sweater.

“Why are you wearing a sweater?” Ruby finally asked mid-morning, fanning herself with a menu while raising an eyebrow at her friend’s clothing choice. “It’s hot as a sweaty ballsack in here.”

“Thank you for that mental image, Ruby,” she said, skirting the question as she popped behind the diner counter to pour a few coffees for one of her tables. “Can’t a pregnant woman want to mask a bit of her bulk without questions?”

Ruby just shook her head. “You look like you’ve got the world’s tiniest basketball stuffed up under your shirt and otherwise you’d never even know you were pregnant.”

Belle smiled at her friend, but she didn’t believe her for a moment. Every day it felt like her body was a little less her own. The baby in her belly was growing rapidly, kicking her in the ribs and the bladder and making it so nothing in her closet fit her but her roomiest sweatshirts. She’d had to bite the bullet and order a few pairs of maternity pants and dresses from an online shop and she’d cringed at the expense. But it’s not as though she could walk around town pantless. Luckily Granny had a spare uniform in a much larger size that she was using for now. She didn’t doubt she’d outgrow it as well before her due date.

“How far along are you now anyway?” Ruby asked, leaning her elbows against the counter and draping her lanky body across it to take in Belle’s full form. Behind Ruby, Belle could see Dr. Whale checking out her rear end. Ariel walked by and slapped him in the back of the head.

“7 months,” Belle said. “It’ll make its grand debut sometime around Halloween.”

“It?” Ruby asked. “Can’t they tell you the sex of the baby by now.”

“Sure,” Belle agreed. “But I didn’t want to know. Makes it easier, I think.”

Ruby arched one perfectly plucked brow at her. “Still not feeling any maternal affection for your fetus?”

Belle shrugged, resting her hand on her belly. There was a gentle nudge against her palm, her baby demanding to be acknowledged. Whoever they were, they were already a spitfire.

“I don’t know,” she said, rubbing along where the baby was kicking from inside of her. “There’s something so weird about it. Like my body has been invaded by an alien life form. How are you supposed to feel happy about that?”

“Hell if I know,” Ruby said, wrinkling her nose. “My mom skipped town when I was two and Granny isn’t exactly the warm and cuddly type. I don’t think I’d know how to be a mom if I tried.”

“You’re no help then,” Belle quipped, placing the coffees on a tray to bring to a table of dockworkers.

Ruby pushed herself away from the counter, rounding it to grab a small carafe of cream and a few teaspoons to put on Belle’s tray.

“I’m sure when you see him for the first time it’ll come.”

“Him?” Belle asked.

Ruby shrugged. “Just a feeling, I guess.”

She bent down until her face was level with Belle’s belly, patting it lightly.

“Little Reuben can’t wait to come out and meet his Aunt Ruby!” she said to the belly.

Belle rolled her eyes, pulling away.

“Just so you know, if it is a boy, a request has already been made for ‘Gary Junior’.”

“Fuck Gary!” Ruby exclaimed, standing up. “If this baby has a namesake, it sure as shit better be me. Lord knows I’d be a better dad than fucking _Gary_.”

“Sure thing, Rubes,” she said, hefting the coffee tray on to one arm. “But forgive me if I don’t name my child after a corned beef sandwich when I work in a diner.”

“Oh yeah,” Ruby said, deflating. “I guess that does kind of suck. Hey, you could always do Lucas!”

“I’ll consider it,” Belle said, waving her friend off. Ruby rolled her eyes and headed back into the kitchen while Belle delivered the coffees with an aching back and fake smile plastered across her face.

* * *

By lunchtime, Belle felt dead on her feet. Her center of gravity was off, causing her to arch her back to support her belly. With the large bruise forming at the base of her spine, every step was agony and she had to take a break, sitting in a chair beside the kitchen door and rubbing gently at her lower back.

Max hadn’t come in for his usual breakfast in a week, not since he’d revealed Milah’s pregnancy, so it was a surprise to see him enter the diner and take a seat at his usual booth at half past noon. Ariel had the afternoon off and Ruby had nipped outside for a cigarette break leaving Belle as the only waitress. She could have asked Granny to take the table but that would have brought on questions, and Belle could never lie when faced with Granny’s penetrating stare. Besides, it’s not as though she had any reason to avoid the man. They had broken up because it was for the best, but there were no hard feelings. Not on her part anyway, not this time. She loved him and he loved her, but sometimes love wasn’t enough. They had separate lives and they needed to get on with living them.

So she stood up, grabbing a glass of water from the bar, and shuffled over to his table, masking her limping as much as possible.

“Mr. Gold,” she said formally as she set the ice water down in front of him. “How are you this afternoon?”

He looked up at her, his face impassive but dark eyes filled with sorrow.

“I’m fine, Mrs. Stone,” he said after a moment. “Thank you for asking. How are you?”

“Fine,” Belle lied, nodding her head. “Heading to Bangor in the morning for the contest.”

“Excellent,” he said, turning back to his menu. “I’d wish you luck, but I’m sure you don’t need it.”

“I could use all the luck I can get,” she said.

Max looked back up at her, the corner of his mouth tilting up in a sad half smile.

“Good luck, Belle,” he said, his voice always so tender when he used her given name. “I truly hope you win.”

Even though it meant she would leave. Even though it meant the end of things between them. Even though part of her wanted nothing more than to stay, despite the bruises all over her body.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice suddenly thick, the urge to cry almost unbearable. He held her gaze for a long moment, the tension stretching taut between them. There were too many things left unsaid, too much history and love and hurt. It was more stifling than the hot air in the kitchen.

She looked away, unable to meet his eyes for a moment longer. She tugged at the cuff of her sweater, pulling it down over her hand and picking at a fraying thread hanging from it.

“You’re wearing long sleeves,” he commented, glancing down at her wool cardigan and Belle sighed.

“So?” she said with a shrug.

“It’s August, Belle,” he said. “We’re in the middle of a heat wave. It’s 85 degrees outside and you work next to a stove all day.”

She glanced out the diner window at the sweltering midday sun and bit her lip.

Gold set his menu down, reaching a hand out to lightly touch her elbow. It was an innocent touch, masked by the thickness of her sweater so she could barely feel his fingertips. All the same it sent a tingle through her whole body.

“Did something happen? Is he hurting you?” Gold asked, his voice low enough not to be overheard by anyone else but cutting right through her. Despite the looks, the questions, no one else had guessed the true reason for her unseasonable clothing.

She didn’t want to answer that. She had hoped to make it through this last day without seeing Max at all. Tomorrow she’d be in Bangor and hopefully come home $20,000 richer. She planned to pack her bags and leave under cover of darkness and never, ever look back. Seeing Max could only jeopardize that.

“I’m fine,” she said stiffly.

Gold dropped his hand back to the table, sitting back in his seat.

“Then why don’t you take off the sweater?” he said, his eyes piercing. “It’s hotter than hell in here with that grill going. You can’t be comfortable.”

“I have a chill,” she lied, unable to meet his eyes.

Gold stared at her, his gaze unwavering. She could feel a bead of sweat forming at her hairline and dripping down the side of her cheek, calling attention to her lie.

As quick as a wink, Gold’s hand darted out, grabbing Belle’s left hand and pushing up the arm of her cardigan. She pulled away as if burned, shaking the sleeve back in to place, but it was too late. He’d already seen the angry bruises marring the pale skin of her arms.

“Belle,” he said, his voice cracking on her name, his eyes wide.

She shook her head, silently begging him to let it go. She was doing what she had to. She was leaving. She didn’t need his concern or his pity. She didn’t need his help.

“Right,” he said, folding up his napkin and dropping it on the table.

Then he stood up swiftly and strode out into the cloudless day more quickly than Belle would have thought possible with his cane. She stood there, stunned, for a moment before waddling after him.

“Max,” she called after him. “What are you doing?”

She followed him out of Granny’s and down to the street, glancing back at the diner indecisively.

“Belle?” Ruby asked, concern coloring her voice as she stood in the doorway to the diner. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ll be right back!” she promised. In the few seconds it had taken to answer her friend, Gold was off and halfway across Main Street, headed in the direction of the Marine Garage.

Belle’s heart sunk. Gary’s best friend Keith worked at the garage. When not at home or the bar, it’s where he could usually be found, tinkering around with old car parts and exchanging lewd jokes with his friends.

“Max, please!” she said harshly, catching up to him and grabbing him by the arm. But he was like a man possessed, ignoring her nails digging in to his arm as if she wasn’t there at all. His face was grim and determined, his jaw tight and his mouth set in a firm line.

She could feel the panic rising in her chest. Whatever Max was about to do, it would only make things worse, she was certain of it.

She spotted Gary, his dark hair visible from behind the open hood of a black corvette. Gold wrenched his arm out of her grip and Belle stumbled forward, watching in horror as he approached her husband.

He walked right up to where Gary was stooped over the car, his t-shirt stretched tight across his broad back. Gold picked up his cane, holding it by the dark, ebony shaft, adjusting his grip for a moment, before he swung it as hard as he could across Gary’s back. It seemed to happen in slow motion as Belle watched open mouthed. One moment the cane was held high, the gold handle gleaming in the noon sun, and the next it descended in a graceful arc, hitting Gary with bruising force.

Gary stumbled into the car, his head banging painfully against the side, leaving him disoriented. Gary was bigger, but Gold had surprise and rage on his side.

“What the?” Gary whirled around in time to see Gold’s cane descending on him again and he raised his forearm up over his head to block the blow. It struck Gary’s arm with a sickening crack and Gary howled in pain, cradling his arm to his chest.

Gold didn’t relent, using Gary’s distraction to land a blow across his face with the gold handled end of his cane. Gary stumbled back in to the hood of the car, his nose spurting blood.

“What the fuck!” Gary yelled, cupping his nose with his hand, the blood leaking through his fingers. He made a grab for Gold with his free hand, but the smaller man darted out of the way, cracking his cane against Gary’s back once more as he stumbled past him.

“Stop!” Belle yelled. But Gold wasn’t paying her the least bit of attention.

Gary collapsed to the ground, covering his head with his hands as Gold leveled blow after blow. Keith had run out from inside the garage, his eyes wide at the scene in front of him. A crowd had formed outside, people coming out of nearby businesses and pedestrians stopping to watch the spectacle, but no one made a move to intervene. It was an uncommon enough sight to see the usually composed Mr. Gold lose his cool so completely. No one wanted to interfere and risk his anger.

Belle was frozen in horror, torn between thinking this was nothing more than Gary deserved and knowing Max’s outburst would make everything so much worse for her. How could she ever explain this to everyone watching? The whole town would know, least of all Gary. He would kill her. She was as good as dead.

She realized tears were spilling down her cheeks, and she wrapped her arms around herself as best she could with her cumbersome belly.

“Stop!” she screamed again. “Please, stop!”

Max looked over his shoulder at Belle, his breathing hard and his lips pulled back in a snarl. Belle shuddered. There was no shred left of the man who had loved her so tenderly. This was the man most of the town feared, the “monster”.

Max cast the cane to the side, kneeling next to Gary’s prone form and wrapping one hand around his meaty throat, pressing in to his windpipe. Gary’s hands scrabbled at Gold but he was too injured to put up much of a fight. His face was a bloody mess, only barely recognizable as her husband.

“Why are you doing this?” Gary sputtered.

“You did this!” Gold snarled, his face animalistic as he bent toward his prey.

He pulled back, removing his hand from Gary’s throat and he took a greedy breath in, the sound wet and rasping.

“You’re never gonna lay a finger on Belle again,” Max hissed, jabbing his pointer finger against Gary’s blood soaked white t-shirt.

Belle’s blood ran cold. There would be no denying to Gary what the source of this altercation was about now.

“What do you care about Belle?” Gary spat. “She’s _my_ fucking wife!”

Gold threw his head back in a humorless laugh.

“Wrong answer,” he said, almost flippantly, before picking his cane back up and raising it to land another blow.

A hand grabbed Gold’s arm as he pulled back to swing again and he rounded on them, a feral snarl on his face.

“Whoa!” exclaimed Sheriff Humbert, stepping back. “Please don’t assault a police officer on top of whatever is happening here.”

Gold let out a shuddering breath, his cane falling limply to his side as he pushed himself back up to stand.

“Holy shit,” Graham hissed out as he looked around Gold at Gary whimpering on the ground. “What did you do?”

“No more than he deserves,” Gold ground out.

Graham looked back and forth between Gold and Gary before grabbing the radio at his hip and calling for an ambulance.

“Mr. Stone,” he said, crouching beside the injured man. “Can you hear me?”

Gary spat out a mixture of blood and saliva onto the pavement.

“Yesh,” he said, his voice thick.

Once Graham had ascertained that Gary wasn’t going to drop dead, he turned his attention back to Max.

“Mr. Gold, if you’d be so kind as to come with me,” he said, his grey eyes steely.

“Why?” Gold spat.

Graham motioned around him as if it should be obvious.

“I just witnessed you beat a man half to death. I have to arrest you regardless of the fact you own my apartment. You’re not above the law, Mr. Gold.”

“Me?” Gold exclaimed, motioning toward Gary with the bloody cane. “You should be arresting him! He’s the one who left bruises all over his pregnant wife!”

“That’sh a lie!” Gary exclaimed, wincing with the effort of yelling and cradling his right side.

Graham looked up, making eye contact with Belle for the first time.

“Is that true, Mrs. Stone?” he asked, concern etched across his handsome face. “If you’d like to come along, I can take a statement.”

Belle froze, looking from Gary’s battered form on the ground to Gold, blood splattered across the front of his suit jacket and dripping from the end of his cane. She felt if she opened her mouth, she was bound to be sick all over the pavement.

Graham and Max were both watching her, waiting for an answer.

She met Gary’s eyes, the one that hadn’t swollen shut anyway. A slice of blue looking right at her and chilling her to the bone.

She shook her head, crossing her arms over her baby bump.

“No,” she said in a small voice, unable to meet their eyes and choosing instead to stare at the splatters of her husband’s blood across the ground.

Max let out a disgusted sound, something between a grunt and a growl. She knew he was disappointed in her, but she was disgusted with him. No matter what his intentions, he’d just made everything so much worse. If Belle had learned one thing in life it was that violence only begat more violence. It was an endless cycle, one she was trapped in.

He pulled his silk handkerchief from his pocket, wiping the blood from his cane handle before using it again. Then he allowed Sheriff Humbert to handcuff him, escorting him to the police cruiser.

The ambulance arrived a moment later, loading Gary on to a gurney and into the back of the truck as Belle watched. Part of her wished he would die from his injuries. That somehow the ambulance would overturn on the way to the hospital, crushing the rest of him that Max hadn’t gotten to and freeing her once and for all. She shook her head. She shouldn’t think such things.

“Hey,” Ruby said tentatively, walking up behind her. “So that was…”

“Can you give me a ride to the hospital?” she asked, cutting her off. Her friend was staring at the scene, her mouth slightly agape, but she snapped to attention at Belle’s question.

“Sure thing, honey,” she said, wrapping her arm around Belle’s shoulder and ushering her toward her car.

* * *

 

The drive was a blur and a few minutes later, Belle found herself sitting in the Emergency Room waiting area, staring down at her white tennis shoes. There was a spot of blood on the toe of her left shoe, brilliant against the white canvas, from where Gold’s cane had dripped blood on her foot. Gary’s blood.

She took a deep breath, looking away, stomach roiling in a way that had nothing to do with her pregnancy.

She could feel eyes on her. News spread fast in Storybrooke. She was positive everyone had heard about Mr. Gold beating Gary Stone within an inch of his life in the middle of the day on Main Street. It was the type of thing to keep people talking for weeks, speculating on the nature of the argument and wondering how to make sure they were never caught in arrears. She was certain Gold would find all rent paid promptly and in full this month.

The thought almost made her laugh, a manic bubble rising up in her throat and she coughed to keep it down.

An old TV bolted to the wall was playing insipid afternoon television. Maury Povich was about to announce the results of a paternity test.

_You are NOT the father!_

The woman on the screen collapsed to the ground as the presumed father of her child ran a victory lap through the audience. Belle turned her back to the TV.

After what felt like an eternity, Maury turning to Divorce Court to Dr. Phil with a special on cheating spouses, Belle started to wonder if Gary had died and they just hadn’t bothered to tell her. By the time the local news started, she was considering just going back to the diner. She needed to bake her pies tonight, not that it mattered anymore.

“Mrs. Stone,” said a woman coming to stand in front of her chair. “I’m Dr. Li. I’ve been treating your husband.”

Belle sat up straighter, rubbing a hand across her bleary eyes.

“Is he okay?” she asked.

Dr. Li smiled.

“Your husband is stable,” she said. “He has several broken ribs which collapsed one of his lungs, a fractured radius, a broken clavicle, and his nose will likely never look the same, but he’ll be just fine. He’ll need a few weeks to heal and probably some physical therapy to regain full range of motion in his arm.”

“Okay,” Belle said numbly.

“We’ve given him a sedative for the pain,” the doctor continued. “So he’s resting comfortably if you’d like to see him.”

“No,” Belle said with a shake of her head. “I don’t…I won’t bother him if he’s resting.”

The doctor frowned slightly but gave no other indication that Belle’s refusal was odd. She nodded, telling Belle she’d let her know when Gary was awake and headed back to her patients.

Belle leaned back in her seat, rubbing her belly idly. She wasn't sure how much a broken bone cost these days, but Gary certainly had a lot of them. If she wasn't so angry she'd almost be impressed at the amount of damage a man of Max's stature could inflict. This was it then. Her savings, her new life, it was gone. It would be taken piece by piece by hospital bills until there was nothing left. 

It was nothing more than she expected. Something always happened to ruin any and all plans of leaving this place. She never really stood a chance. There were no tears for another missed opportunity. Instead she just felt numb.

It was then her stomach rumbled loudly, reminding her she was supposed to be eating for two these days. Sitting in the waiting area wasn’t doing her any good, so she got up, heading down the hall to a little kitchen area with a coffee pot, a fridge and bank of vending machines for guests.

She rifled in her apron pocket for a few dollar bills, realizing for the first time she was still wearing it. She stared at the vending machine, not really seeing the selections and eventually paid and pressed two buttons at random. A bag of pretzels landed in the receptacle and she stooped to retrieve them, her sore back protesting the movement.

“Belle,” came a soft voice from behind her and Belle shut her eyes, taking a deep breath before turning to face Max.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, numbly. “I thought you were arrested.”

“I posted bail,” he said simply. And of course he had. Money was no object to him. Problems went away as soon as they arose when you had the cash. Belle sighed, slipping the pretzels into her apron pocket.

“May I speak to you?” Gold asked, casting an eye out the door to the kitchenette at the busy hospital hallway beyond. “In private?”

Belle shrugged. “We’re in a public hospital. This is about as private as things are going to get.”

Gold conceded her point, stepping fully in to the kitchenette and shutting the windowed door behind him.

“Are you alright?” he asked awkwardly. Belle noticed that he must have gone home to change. He was no longer wearing his disheveled, blood-splattered suit. Now he was dressed in navy pinstripe, a royal blue shirt underneath. He was back to being the cool, confident Mr. Gold. Quietly sinister rather than red-hot anger boiling over and punishing those in his wake.

“Why did you do that?” she asked, reaching in to her apron pocket and squeezing the bag of pretzels in her fist for want of something to do with her hands.

“Sweetheart,” he said with a shake of his head. “I had to.”

“You had no right,” she said, the pretzels crunching beneath the pressure of her grip. “You had no right to do that. I’m nothing to you, okay? I’m not your wife or your girlfriend. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I wanted to help you,” he said with a shake of his head. “To protect you.”

She mashed the bag of pretzels even harder in her hand, feeling the bag pop and the air start to leak out of it. She turned, staring at the glass surface of the vending machine and trying to swallow down the anger churning in her gut. She wasn’t angry at Gold, not really. She was angry at everything, at the unfairness of her own life, that she could constantly come so close to having something good only to lose it all.

“You ruined everything,” she whispered harshly, her shoulders tense.

“What? How? I defended you.”

Belle wheeled around to face him, the rage and sadness and desperation congealing in her chest, choking her. It was as though she had tunnel vision, her sight reduced to one tiny pinprick focused on Gold’s face. She wanted to lash out and hurt him as badly as she hurt.

“I don’t need saving!” she hissed out, her voice rising despite herself. Who cared if the whole damned hospital knew the truth now. She couldn’t possibly be more wretched.

“You’re so unhappy, Belle,” he said with a shake of his head. “And it’s his fault! He hurt you. I had to do something. I can't let that stand. I will not let that stand!”

“It’s not your battle to fight!” she exclaimed. “I’m not a happy person. But I’m not your project. I’m not something you can come in and fix. I’m a person and by meddling in my life you’ve ruined the only chance at happiness I might ever have!”

“How?” he repeated himself. “By making sure your husband thinks twice before he hits you again?”

Belle couldn't even follow that train of thought, that hitting Gary would somehow make him stop hitting her. She would pay for Gold's actions in spades.

“The contest is tomorrow!” Belle cried. “You think I can leave town now? You put my husband in the hospital and you took away the only chance I had to get away from him. I was almost free.”

“Go anyway,” he said emphatically. “Leave. Go to Bangor tonight. What is stopping you?”

Belle motioned around at their surroundings as if it should be obvious.

“All the money I saved has to go toward medical bills now, doesn’t it? Any winnings I made from the contest would be our marital property. They’d be seized to pay for what you did! Gary hasn’t started his new job yet. He doesn’t have health insurance. Thanks to you he’ll be out of work for weeks longer. The emergency room bill will take everything we have and leave us even more in debt or have you forgotten we owe you $10,000 on top of everything else!”

Gold shook his head. "You don't have to pay that back. Consider it a gift. And Gary doesn’t know you have that money. Why are you beholden to him in any way? Just because he’s the father of your child does not mean you owe him anything.”

“Oh well that’s rich coming from the man too weak to leave a woman who stole his goddamned sperm!”

“Milah doesn’t beat me,” he countered.

“Maybe not physically but she’s certainly done a number on you in every other possible way and yet you stay with her. So don’t you dare fucking judge me!”

Max stalked away from her, pacing to and fro in the small space. He was blocking the doorway and it made her nervous, not because she thought Max would hurt her, but because she needed a clear exit from any room to breathe easy.

“So, what, you’re just going to stay and raise a child with that man?” he demanded.

“Isn’t that what you want?” she asked petulantly. “Stay together for the kids no matter what? No matter how bloody miserable everyone is including your own son?”

“Don’t talk about my son,” he snapped. “He is loved and cared for by both his parents. Can you make the same promise to your baby with Gary for a father?”

“He’s not the father!” she screamed, throwing her arms up in the air, unable to take one more moment of this lie. It was weighing her down, drowning her and she couldn’t take it anymore.

There was silence in the aftermath of her declaration. A yawning chasm of silence so loud it threatened to swallow her whole. Max had stopped his pacing, standing very still.

“Wh-what?” he said finally, shaking his head like a dog trying to dispel water from its ears. He looked desperate. He was giving her an out, she realized. She could say he’d misheard her. She could say the baby was Gary’s. She could say nothing at all. But she couldn’t lie to him anymore. She couldn’t pretend that she hadn’t forgotten her birth control that weekend she’d spent at his house. Gary had gone on his annual ice fishing trip. Milah had been in Paris. Neal was on a class trip to Washington D.C. The stars had aligned and they were alone in Storybrooke. For the first and only time ever they had made love in a bed, spent all weekend wrapped in each other’s arms only leaving for occasional sustenance. It had been the single happiest time in Belle’s life and Gold had broken things off between them three days later because nothing good could ever last.

Gary was infertile but even if he wasn’t, Belle had always known who the father of her child was. And as angry as she was with him, as complicated as this made things, he had a right to know.

She bit her lip, taking a deep breath.

“He’s not the father of my child,” she said, shaking her head. She couldn’t look at Max, couldn’t see how her words landed.

He was silent, unusually still, just standing there staring at her. She chanced a look up at him. His face was stony, hard. He had never looked at her like that before.

“Max,” she said.

He turned, storming out of the room and leaving her utterly alone.


	9. Chapter 9

Belle stood there, staring at the door Max had just left through, unable to lift a foot to follow him. She wasn’t sure what she would say to him if she did manage to catch up to him anyway. He had never looked at her so coldly, not even before, when they had split up and he thought she was using him for money. Not when they first met, years and years ago when she first started working at the diner, fresh out of high school. He’d always been kind to her. He had loved her. And now she’d driven him away for good.

She tasted the metallic tang of blood in her mouth, realizing for the first time just how hard she was biting in to her bottom lip. She swiped at her mouth, dashing away the small amount of blood that had bloomed there.

The secret she had kept to herself for months was out, but she felt no relief in it. Instead a heavy sense of guilt had settled in her stomach, weighing her down like a stone.

She should have told him. Damn it all but she should have told him the moment she knew the baby was his. She wasn’t sure if it would have made a lick of difference. He was still married, still had a wife and a child he valued more than he would ever value her and her bastard. But she should have told him, regardless.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, staring out the open door, but eventually her back started to ache, her ankles feeling swollen. She dropped into a rickety plastic dining chair set next to a matching table, letting her head fall forward onto her crossed arms.

Time blurred together. It could have been an hour or five minutes. She didn’t sleep, but it felt as though her brain shut off, too overwhelmed with the events of the day to process anything else, the world pleasantly muffled and seemingly far away from the shelter of her folded arms in a hospital visitor’s snack area.

Eventually there was a knock on the door and Belle picked her head up from her arms, looking around blearily.

“Mrs. Stone,” a short, squat nurse said, entering the kitchenette. She smiled down at Belle kindly. “There you are. I wondered if you wanted to bring some of Mr. Stone’s things from home. A pair of pajamas or bathrobe, a pillow or blanket, anything to make him more comfortable.”

Belle shook her head.

“He won’t be staying,” she said. “We don’t have insurance. I can take care of him at home.”

The nurse looked surprised.

“He’s just been moved to a hospital room,” she said. “I was told he’d be staying with us while he recovers.”

Belle gave a sigh, shaking her head.

“Who should I talk to about discharging him?”

The nurse directed her to an administrator’s office and Belle entered wearily, seeing her high school classmate Mary Margaret Nolan sitting behind a large desk. She hadn’t known Mary Margaret well. The other woman had been two years ahead of her in school and they moved in different circles. Mary Margaret’s father, Leo Blanchard, had been one of the wealthiest men in town while Belle went to school in second hand clothes held together by her mother’s prodigious sewing skill and sheer force of will. Mary Margaret had caused quite the stir in town a few years ago when her affair with David Nolan had gone public. The town had shunned her for a bit, taking Kathryn Nolan’s side and judging the other woman harshly. Belle hadn’t given it much thought one way or the other back then, but it made her feel a sort of kinship with Mary Margaret now. If her relationship with Max ever became common knowledge she was sure she’d be judged even more harshly than Mary Margaret had been.

At least things had worked out for Mary Margaret and David. The novelty of their infidelity had passed and they’d married a year after his divorce from Kathryn who had moved away to go to law school. Now they had a baby boy of their own along with a foster daughter, Emma, who was a good friend of Neal Gold’s.

“Belle,” Mary Margaret said, her dark brows drawing together. “I’m so sorry to hear about Gary.”

Belle just nodded, taking a seat in one of the cushioned office chairs in front of the desk.

“I was told he’s being moved to a hospital room, but without insurance we can’t afford a long term stay in the hospital,” Belle explained, her cheeks heating at the admission. “Can I go ahead and discharge him?”

“Oh!” Mary Margaret said, and Belle hated to see the shadow of pity cross her green eyes. “Of course, I’m so sorry.”

Mary Margaret pulled her computer keyboard toward her, tapping away at the keys for a moment before she looked up at Belle with confusion.

“It says he’s already paid up,” she said, looking back to her computer screen. “A week long hospital stay paid for in advance. All further bills are to be sent to….” She trailed off.

“Who?” Belle asked, needlessly. There was only one person it could possibly be.

Mary Margaret scanned the screen in front of her as if waiting for the information to magically change.

“Maxwell Gold,” she said, barely containing her surprise. “Um, I suppose he felt responsible.”

Belle let out a sigh.

“Thank you,” she said, standing to leave. “I should go collect Gary’s things.”

Before she left, she spun back around.

“Do you think, um, do you think you could keep this to yourself?” she asked.

Mary Margaret’s eyes widened. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Of course.”

She paused for a moment, brushing her black fringe back from her eyes nervously before leveling Belle with a knowing look.

“You know, if you ever need anything, to talk, ask questions about childbirth, or  _anything_ else, you can always call me.”

She picked up one of her business cards sitting in a little metal tray on her desk and held it out to Belle.

“My cell phone is on there,” she said, nodding toward the card. “I know we were never close in school, but…we’re adults now.”

“Yeah,” Belle said, taking the card and slipping it in to her pocket. “We’re all grown up.”

* * *

Belle located Gary’s room down a winding corridor filled with unassuming beige doors. His was slightly ajar and she peeked in, not wanting to be seen if he was awake. It was amazing how someone so large could look so small when confined to a hospital bed. His eyes were closed, one due to being swollen shut. He was bandaged up, his arm encased in plaster and bound tightly to his torso. His lip was split and every inch of him that wasn’t concealed by bandages or blankets seemed covered in bruises.

She wondered if she should feel some smidgen of sympathy for him. He’d been attacked from behind. He’d never stood a chance against Max’s sheer rage. But she couldn’t find it in herself to care. She didn’t feel sympathy, or hatred, or even anger. When she looked at him, she felt nothing.

Belle turned around and headed back down to the hospital lobby and out the front doors. Gary would be taken care of in the hospital. He wasn’t her problem anymore.

* * *

It was twilight as she made her way down Main Street, the entire afternoon eaten up at the hospital. She hoped the diner hadn’t been too shorthanded. She’d certainly miss the tips the afternoon of work would have brought, but so much had changed in the past few hours it was a numb sort of disappointment.

She stopped outside the pawnshop, burying her hands in the pockets of her cardigan, her feet suddenly feeling like lead. She wasn’t sure if this had consciously been her destination when she left the hospital, but it was inevitable. She and Max would have to discuss what had happened between them and now seemed as good a time as any.

The door was unlocked and Belle stepped inside the shop, the bell above the door jingling out.

Max was standing behind the counter, his eyes staring down at a chess set in front of him unseeingly. There was a tumbler of whiskey at his elbow though it didn’t look like he’d drunk much of it. His eyes flicked up to her at the sound of the bell, his jaw tightening at the sight of her.

“Get out, Belle,” he said, his voice infuriatingly calm and belying the flashing anger in his eyes.

“No,” she said, crossing her arms against her chest and planting her feet squarely on the pawnshop floor. “I’m not leaving.”

Max raised a hand, pointing at the door to her back. She noticed it was trembling slightly.

“Leave,” he said, his voice clipped.

“Why?” she demanded. “Why won’t you talk to me? For God’s sake this is always your tactic, to run rather than confront the problem head on. You broke things off rather than ask me about the loan. Don’t do this again.”

Max’s hand slapped down hard on the countertop, punctuating the air like a gunshot. Belle flinched in spite of herself.

He was shaking, vibrating with barely contained rage.

“Please, go,” he hissed.

“No,” she said with another shake of her head.

“Belle, I do not want to be responsible for the things I say to you. I need time. I need to calm down.”

“You won’t hurt me,” she said bravely, raising her chin. She knew instinctively that no matter how angry Max was, he wouldn’t lash out at her the way Gary would. “Your words can’t hurt worse than Gary’s fists.”

“Goddammit, Belle!” he yelled.

Belle took an instinctive step back and Max turned away from her, raking a hand through his hair.

“Fine,” he said with a stiff nod. “You want to talk about this? Let’s talk. I wanted to talk seven months ago, but I suppose you just weren’t ready to let me know I was having another child.”

He turned back to her, looking expectantly, defiant, daring her to say anything that could fix this situation.

“You paid Gary’s hospital bills,” she said. It seemed easier to tackle that subject than the weightier one at the moment.

Max shook his head as if he’d misheard her. “That’s what you’re here about?” he returned, his mouth hanging open. “That’s honestly what you want to lead with? Are you so determined to refuse my help at every turn that you came here to berate me for cleaning up the fucking mess _I_ made?”

Belle shook her head, taking a step further in to the shop.

“I wanted to say thank you,” she said.

“Oh,” he returned, the wind leaving his sails a bit. He seemed to deflate, his shoulders slumping and leaving him looking sad.

“I thought I’d be taking Gary home tonight and being forced to nurse him back to health myself, so thank you for keeping that from happening.”

He nodded, not looking at her, just staring off unseeingly. He was so angry with her and he had every right to be. She had made a mess of things for months now and she hadn’t the first clue of how to make them better.

Horrible silence followed her gratitude and Belle’s courage flagged. She didn’t know what else to say.

“Well,” she said with a nod, “I suppose I’ll get out of your hair.”

“No!” Gold barked, rounding the counter between them and walking toward her, the tap of his cane echoing in the stillness of the shop. “No, you don’t get off that easily. I want you to look me in the face and tell me why. Why didn’t you tell me the baby was mine?”

“I couldn’t,” Belle said with a shake of her head.

Max scoffed. “Couldn’t?” he asked. “Couldn’t do something as simple as tell the truth? I would have helped you. For Gods sake Belle you’ve been living with that monster, putting yourself at risk, putting _our child_ at risk, and for what? Your bloody pride!”

“Of course not,” she cried.

But Max wasn’t even listening to her now that he’d gotten started. He stepped closer, into her personal space, his eyes wild.

“Or were you hoping he’d toss you around hard enough that you’d lose the baby and not be burdened with my child?”

Belle felt tears pricking her eyes as she shook her head.

“That’s a cruel thing to say.”

“As cruel as hiding the fact that you’re pregnant with my baby?” he spat, his face right in hers, the warm scent of whiskey on his breath enveloping her. Perhaps he'd had more than she realized. “Were you ever gonna tell me? Or could I expect some grown man to show up on my doorstep one day with my eyes?”

“I told you, didn’t I?” she yelled back. “What does it matter if you know now or a few months ago? It doesn’t change anything!”

“It changes everything, Belle!” he exclaimed, pivoting on his heel and pacing away.

She took a deep breath once he was out of her bubble, her fight or flight response on high alert. She knew Max wouldn't hurt her, but her body seemed to expect a blow regardless.  

“What could it have possibly helped?” she asked, her heart beating wildly in her chest. “Your life would be better, less complicated, if I wasn’t having your baby. If I disappeared completely. I did this for you!”

“For me?” he roared, rounding back on her. “Don’t you dare put this on me. You did this for you, to protect yourself from having to admit that anything between us was real.”

“And why, oh why, might I want to do that?” she yelled back. “Maybe because the man I’m in love with won’t even entertain the idea of leaving his wife! He’s told me point blank he’ll never leave her for me! I’m just the dirty mistress and it’s all I’ll ever be to you no matter what you say.”

Max took a step back, balancing on his cane.

“Is that what you think?” he asked, his voice gone quiet after his earlier outburst.

She crossed her arms against her chest, closing herself off. It was nothing more than the truth. He would never leave Milah and even if he did, what did it really matter? There was no happy ending for the two of them. Not now and not ever.

“I think you’re loyal to a fault. I think you’d do anything if you thought it was best for your child,” she shook her head, the tears falling in earnest. “I don’t want you to choose to be with me just because I’m having your baby. How is that any better than staying with Milah because of Neal?”

If he chose her now, she would never know if he was with her for her or the baby. That might be fine for Milah, but Belle wanted more. She wanted to be chosen, on her merits alone. She’d never been chosen by anyone in her life. Her mother chose her father over her, again and again, refusing to leave despite it being best for her child. Her father chose whiskey and anger. Gary had only ever cared about himself. And Max, well, Max would never choose her alone. She wanted to be enough.

“I just want my family together,” he said in a harsh whisper, his eyes blinking rapidly. "I don't think that's so much to ask."

Belle let out a mirthless laugh, swiping at her tears with the sleeve of her sweater. 

“Well if you want this baby, you have two now,” she said plainly.

“Of course I want this baby,” he hissed. “How could I not? It’s my child!”

“Even though it’s your child with your dirty mistress?” she couldn’t help the barb, nor the sullen tone of her voice.

“It’s my child with the woman I love,” he shot back fiercely. “And that doesn’t change no matter how angry I am with you. I just wish you would have trusted me.”

“I do!”

“No,” he shook his head. “You don’t. You don’t trust anyone Belle, no one but yourself. You don’t have to do everything alone.”

She did though. She wished she had someone to share the burden. But how could you share yourself with someone who wasn’t even yours to begin with?

“I’m sorry,” she said, realizing she had yet to say the words she’d come to say. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry I lied to your face. I’m sorry I’ve let you believe for 7 months that this baby wasn’t yours. It’s yours. And I’m glad it’s yours.”

Max snorted, refusing to meet her eye. “You’ll excuse me if I’m not quite ready to forgive.”

Belle nodded. She deserved that. She knew it might be a long time before he could ever begin to forgive her.

She approached him, slowly, like you would a wounded animal. She stopped, one step away. If she reached out toward him she could touch him. If only she could be sure he wouldn’t recoil at her touch. She’d lost the right to love him. She’d lost it the minute she’d lied and told him Gary was her baby’s father.

He was breathing hard, his chest heaving beneath his waistcoat, shirt and tie. There was anger flashing in his eyes, but something else was there too, something at war with the anger.

Despite herself, Belle tentatively placed one trembling hand against his chest and his breath caught like he wouldn’t dare to move, not even to breathe. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading for him to realize, to understand, to know the true reason she couldn’t tell him the truth. To know why she’d felt the need to do this on her own. To divine the words she’d never had the stomach to say.

Max’s eyes flicked down to where her hand rested on his chest, right over his heart beating frantically against her palm and then slowly slid back up to her face. The moment was fraught with tension, pulled tight like a piano string about to snap and leave destruction in its wake.

“You should go,” Max managed to say again.

“No,” Belle whispered. "I really shouldn't." 

The piano string snapped and Max hauled her to him, pinning her to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her. His mouth found hers, hot and hard, bruising and biting. It was a clash of teeth and tongues, not a kiss born of love but of heartache and anger and sadness.

She could feel their baby squirming in her belly between them and she was sure Max could feel it too because he redoubled his efforts, pushing a hand into her hair to tug her head back and deepen the kiss.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer until he was stooped against her, down to her level. His hands left her hair, trailing down her neck and her sides, squeezing her hips and coming up to cup her breasts, so much fuller than they were even a few short weeks ago.

Max spun them around, pinning her between himself and the counter. Her hands trailed down to grip on to his lapels, holding him close, never letting him go, not even for breath. She could drown in him, right here and now. For the first time in a long time she didn’t care about the future at all. She just wanted to feel something.

He pressed her in to the counter, his body a heavy weight against hers, one leg sliding between hers to part her thighs and rub against her core. He tugged her hips more firmly against him, grinding into her hip, before pushing her back against the counter once more with force. Her bruised lower back came into sharp contact with the edge of the counter and Belle cried out in pain, a short staccato squeal in the quiet of the shop, and it was like a spell was broken. Max jumped away from her, holding his hands out toward her warily.

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He looked wrecked and lost and terrified. Belle realized she’d never seen him look scared but now there was fear clinging to him like a cloak.

“You didn’t do anything,” she said, reaching back to rub at her sore back. “I was already damaged.”

Max closed his eyes, leaning heavily against a display case, his knuckles white as he clung to it. She shouldn’t have kissed him back. It just made all of this so much harder.

They were both breathing hard, that terrible silence rising up to engulf them once again. They loved each other, they were having a baby together, and everything was still awful. The one constant in Belle’s life seemed to be an absence of happiness, even when it should bloom like flowers on a spring day.

“I should go,” she said finally, echoing the words Max had said repeatedly since she showed up at the shop.

He simply nodded, staring down at his white knuckled grip on the display case rather than look at her. Belle turned toward the door of the shop, her hand frozen on the doorknob.

This wasn’t the end. They were tied together now no matter what. Max wanted his child and she wouldn’t keep him from it. They would see each other again. It felt like an ending nonetheless, and at the end she owed him honesty no matter what it cost her.

“He would have killed me,” she said finally, professing the truth to the closed wooden door. It was somehow easier not to see the horror in his face. “If he knew the baby wasn’t his, he’d kill me and it.”

She’d never said the words out loud. She’d never given voice to her fear before. She’d thought it would break her, leave her sobbing on the pawnshop floor, but it didn’t. She felt numb as she said the words, as though her entire life was happening to someone else and she was just watching from the sidelines.

“The fewer people who know a secret, the less chance of it getting out,” she continued. “I had to keep it safe.”

“Belle,” he whispered, his voice thick. “I didn’t know how bad things were. I think I didn’t want to know.”

“I didn’t want you to know,” she said.

She heard the click of his cane, the shuffle of his steps behind her before his hand tentatively rested on her shoulder. She turned to face him, his face wet with tears.

“I didn’t want you to know how wretched I was. I always thought I’d do better than my mum, that I’d get away from here and make something of myself. And instead I just repeated all her mistakes.”

Max’s hand left her shoulder, reaching for her hand instead. He turned it over in his, tracing his thumb along the lines of her palm.

“I can protect you from him, you know,” he said, glancing up at her. “I’ll run him out of town if I have to. I could destroy him with a word, and I’d do it happily.”

Belle nodded. She knew that. Gary owed the very shirt on his back to Gold. He would be homeless by midnight if she asked it of him. But a Gary with nothing left to lose scared her more than anything else.

“I know,” she said. “Just like you know I’d never ask you to.”

He nodded, squeezing her hand one last time before letting it go.

“We’ll figure this out, Belle,” he said. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore. But running away just isn't an option. I will be a part of this child's life.”

It wasn't a threat, but if felt like one. She knew Max would want this baby. She was tied to Storybrooke as surely as if it had really been Gary's, perhaps even more so. 

"I know," she said again. "Goodbye, Max." 

And he let her go.

* * *

She walked out of the shop into the darkness outside. The warmth of the day had given way to a cooler night and she tugged the sweater that had started all of this mess closer around herself. The lights were shining from Granny’s across the street, the neon sign lit up and casting a reddish glow on the courtyard outside.

She could still do it. She could march over to the diner, whip up a pie, and get on a bus for Bangor with it first thing in the morning. It wasn’t too late.

She stood on the sidewalk, frozen. This felt like a life changing moment, one where she could finally decide her own fate. Gary was laid up in the hospital, pumped up on drugs and none the wiser. He couldn’t stop her now, and possibly never again.

Belle glanced back at the door to the pawnshop. Max must have gone back to his workroom because he was no longer there. There was no one to witness this moment, no one but Belle and the little eggplant sized baby in her belly.

Belle took a deep breath and crossed the street.

The next morning was cloudy, the air heavy with the promise of rain. Belle had a cooler slung over one arm, three perfect pies preserved within. The metal steps leading on to the bus were slick with dew and her shoes squeaked she climbed them, one by one, her heart in her throat. She found a seat a few rows back and sat down, one arm resting protectively on the cooler at her side.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as the bus departed, the brakes squealing and the smell of exhaust wafting in through her open window. When she opened them, she could see the lit up sign for Mr. Gold Pawnbroker and Antiquities Dealer seeming to hover midair in the foggy, early morning gloom. She turned and looked straight ahead at the back of the seat in front of her.

There was one last thing she had to do on her own.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was supposed to originally be entirely from Belle's POV, but I needed some things to happen before the next chapter that Belle wouldn't be privy to. I didn't want to just say they happened so here is the first (and probably only) chapter from Gold's POV! I hope it doesn't break up the flow too badly.

Gold stayed late at the shop, losing himself in small, mindless tasks to distract from the storm happening inside his head. It was only after he found himself pulling out an ancient spinning wheel at half past two in the morning that Max finally decided to leave the shop with some semblance of his sanity in tact.

The streets were silent as he took the short drive home, parking in front of his dark, still house. A breeze was stirring the trees in the yard and he stared up through the windshield at the looming shadows of the branches against the starry sky, lacking the energy to get out of the car just yet.

The baby was his.

The thought was on a loop in his head, no matter what he did to distract himself. Belle was having his baby. He supposed she could be lying, could have decided the only way to truly break away from Gary was if she had Gold’s financial support. He shook his head. He knew Belle better than that. And no amount of money was worth the risk of Gary finding out.

His hands clenched involuntarily on the steering wheel at the thought. Belle had spent the past seven months in fear for her life and for the life of her child and he hadn’t even realized. He had even accused her of wanting to lose the baby, and he closed his eyes in shame. He should never speak when angry. It did him no favors.

He couldn’t spend all night in the car, so he climbed out of the cab, trudging up the front steps and unlocking the door as quietly as possible. He was planning on heading straight up to the guest bedroom rather than risk waking Milah. The last thing he wanted was a confrontation with her when his feelings were so raw. Unfortunately his night wasn’t inclined to do him any more favors than his day had.

“So you’ve finally managed to drag yourself home,” came a voice from the darkness as he entered the foyer.

A light flicked on in the parlor across from the stairs, Milah sitting on the brown leather sofa there, her blush silk bathrobe wrapped around her and hair falling free in gentle waves. It had been so long since he’d seen Milah without her armor, her makeup and coifed hair and designer wardrobe. Seeing her barefaced, with her natural curls was a shock, a reminder of the woman he’d married so many years ago.

“Milah,” he said curtly, stopping at the base of the stairs. “Did you need something?”

She stood up, crossing her arms atop her burgeoning belly.

“Yes, I need something,” she hissed out. “An explanation for why you beat a man half to death on Main Street!”

Max sighed, bracing his free hand against the banister.

“He owed me money.”

Milah scoffed, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder.

“Everyone owes you money. You don’t usually put them in the hospital over it.”

“Special circumstances,” he said with a nod, taking a step up the stairs. But Milah wasn’t done with him yet.

“Special circumstances like _Belle_?” she asked, her voice freezing him. He turned slowly to look at her, his position on the stair giving him more of a height advantage than usual.

“You know what everyone in town is saying, don’t you?” she said, a cruel smirk crossing her face as she gazed up at him. “That you were fucking his wife, that little waitress you like so much. They all think you fathered her child.”

Gold took a step back down the stairs. He was too tired and emotionally wrung out for anything but honesty. Milah would find out sooner or later. He was determined to be involved in his child’s life and it would be hard to hide it from her in the long run.

“I did,” he said, wearily. Milah’s eyes widened but her face otherwise betrayed no emotion at the revelation.

“What?” she deadpanned.

“Belle’s baby,” Max clarified, raising his chin, “is mine. I didn’t know until today.”

Milah’s jaw tightened, her eyes glittering in the low light.

“And you believe her?”

Gold shrugged.

“I’ve no reason not to. The dates all line up. But if you’d like, I’ll ask for a paternity test once the baby is born.”

Milah let out a sound of disgust, turning and pacing the floor in front of him.

“You know she’s using you, right?” she said unkindly. “You can’t be stupid enough to think some twenty-something wants you for more than your money. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if her husband was in on the charade. Perhaps he pimps her out around town anytime they need money.”

“Don’t,” he hissed, his voice deadly quiet.

“What?” Milah asked, pausing in her pacing. “Insult your little whore? That’s what she is Maxwell. She’s not your wife, she’s not the love of your life, pure as the driven snow. She’s a tramp of a waitress who can’t keep her legs closed.”

She was trying to get a rise out of him, trying to goad him into a fight. Gold wouldn’t rise to her bait. He clenched his cane handle tight in his hand, focusing on keeping his breathing even.

“So, what?” Milah continued. “Are you going to leave me for this midlife crisis?”

“I don’t know,” Gold said, shaking his head. “Is there any reason I shouldn’t?”

Milah gaped at him, her mouth falling open.

“You’re actually entertaining the idea of running off with your mistress?” she braced her hands on her hips, shaking her head. “Don’t be foolish, Maxwell. I’ll take Neal away and there will be nothing you can do about it.”

“Why?” he asked, shaking his head. “You don’t love me. You certainly don’t like me. Why won’t you let me go?”

“Because you don’t get to win,” she hissed, stomping toward him, her teeth bared. “You don’t get to be happy with some child fifteen years younger than me. You don’t get to have love and family and happiness when you sucked the best years of my life from me!”

Milah’s eyes were wild, her limbs trembling with barely contained rage. He wouldn’t have thought she had it in her but apparently his suffering was more important than her own happiness.

“All I’ve ever done is try to make you happy,” he said, his voice steely. “First with my presence and when it became clear you hated me for some reason, I left you alone. I financed your travels. What else did you want from me?”

Milah shook her head in disgust, turning away from him.

“You think I don’t know you only married me because of Neal?” she asked, staring down their wedding portrait hung on the hallway wall as if it had personally offended her. “Do you think I didn’t see the contempt you had for me from day one? You’re right. I don’t love you and I never have. How could I love someone who only ever saw me as a burden? As a duty? As a mother to a precious son and nothing more! You’ve never seen me Maxwell. You never even tried.”

“I tried to make our marriage work,” he said, stepping forward. “But I was never enough for you.”

Milah let out a wet laugh, shaking her head.

“Making a marriage work takes more than providing financially.”

“What, like fidelity?” he countered.

Milah snorted. “You just admitted to getting another woman pregnant!”

“I was faithful to you,” he spat. “For fourteen years. Until Belle.”

“And you want a reward for celibacy?”

“No. But you want to talk about trying to make a marriage work? I knew about Alejandro, the personal trainer. And Simon, the businessman you met on a plane. And Killian, the only one dumb enough to call the house.”

“Don’t judge me for how I chose to cope with my husband’s disinterest," she erupted. "If I had actually loved you, you’d have broken my heart.”

“What heart?” he said, his voice little more than an angry hiss.

Milah shook her head, angry tears forming in her blue eyes.

“There it is,” she said, jabbing her finger against his chest, her face in his. “You think I’m heartless? You don’t know me. You’ve lived beside me fifteen years and you don’t know the first thing about me. You are a shit husband, Maxwell. You don’t get the moral high ground because I happened to cheat first.”

Gold shook his head. It was true he had married Milah because she was pregnant, but he had thought he loved her at the time as well. Her first marital indiscretion had occurred two years into their marriage and he’d been sick over it, his heart broken that Milah could flout their marriage vows so easily. Over time he’d hardened to her. He’d had to in order to survive. Any softness he’d once felt for her was long gone, but it wasn’t fabricated. He’d cared once.

“I’m sorry,” he said, giving Milah a stiff nod. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way. It was never my intention. But Milah, it’s been so long since we’ve been even remotely happy together. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life with someone you despise just to make sure I’m as miserable as you are?”

Milah’s shoulders sagged as she rubbed her palms against her upper arms.

“I’m tired, Maxwell,” she said with a shake of her head. “I’m the kind of tired that no amount of sleep can cure.”

“Then please,” he said, his voice imploring. “Let me go. I want a divorce.”

Milah sucked in a ragged breath, shooting a glance up the stairs.

“What about Neal?”

“I imagine he’ll be relieved not to have to pretend we’re a happy family any longer.”

“And what about this baby?” she demanded. “Your daughter?”

His eyes fell to where Milah’s hands cradled her bump beneath the silk of her dressing gown.

“We both know she’s not mine,” he said flatly.

Milah’s mouth snapped shut, her brow creasing.

“How could you say such a thing?”

“Oh cut the act,” he said impatiently. “You’re a terrible actress.”

She narrowed her eyes, her hands dropping from her belly.

“I’ll claim her,” he continued, nodding to Milah’s belly. “I’ll love her, provide for her, raise her as my own. But don’t insult my intelligence any more than you already have. Do you think I'd take your word alone for this? I checked with the sperm bank and all my samples are accounted for. Have you even informed the real father? He might want to know. If it’s Killian, he certainly seems besotted enough to take you in.”

Milah just glared at him for a long moment before shrugging one slim shoulder, the blush silk of her robe creasing with the motion. 

"Fine," she said. "You caught me. If you'd just done your part and fucked me six months ago you'd be none the wiser but then you've always been a disappointment." 

"A disappointing, shit husband who you've fought tooth and nail to keep chained to you. Are you actually allergic to happiness then?"

Milah rolled her eyes, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe to the parlor and playing with the ties to her robe. He wanted to leave, be out of Milah's presence, but she was still eyeing him, clearly not done with the conversation. 

"So why did you do it?"

“Do what?” he asked, unsure about the shift in conversation.

She rolled her eyes again. “Beat Gary Stone half to death on Main Street. It can’t have been jealousy alone.”

It wasn’t his place to tell. Belle had been ashamed of Gary’s abuse, as if it somehow reflected badly on her. She seemed to think herself weak for being trapped in a horrible situation.

None of it was Belle’s fault of course. And he wanted to be honest with Milah now, in the end.

“He was hurting Belle,” he said finally, glancing down at the floor. “He suspected the baby wasn’t his.”

There was a beat of silence. And then Milah laughed, actually laughed, throwing her head back with cackling glee. Gold’s eyes snapped back up to her in horror.

“Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together in front of her. “And here I thought my little ruse had failed.”

“What are you talking about?” he spat, his stomach roiling at the thought that Milah had anything to do with Belle’s most recent misfortunes.

Milah smiled, her bare feet padding across the polished wooden floor toward him, eager to see the results of her meddling up close.

“I had my friend at Storybrooke General take a look at Gary Stone for his work physical,” she explained, her nose crinkling up with glee. “It got a bit more involved than those things usually do but Gary didn’t seem to realize anything was amiss. Ignorance is a virtue, you know. Anyway, my friend told him he was sterile.”

“You…” he said, the whole situation suddenly making perfect sense. “You’re the reason Gary almost killed Belle.”

Milah shrugged. “How was I supposed to know he was violent? I just wanted him to confront the girl and get her to confess to her affair.”

“Why?” Gold demanded. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I wanted the truth, something you’ve never been kind enough to give me. I wanted to know if my suspicions were correct and you’d knocked up that child. I wanted to know if my family was at risk.”

“What family?” he asked. “We’re two strangers who happen to share a child thanks to youthful hormones and too much tequila.”

And that was the truth of it. He and Milah should never have gotten married. He thought he’d been doing the right thing but all he’d managed to do was make both of them miserable for a decade and a half. It seemed every time he tried to do something right it just blew up in his face making things infinitely worse.

“You know, I think that’s the most honest thing you’ve ever said to me,” she said, her eyes looking up at him wonderingly. “Thank you for that.”

“And you were honest too,” he ground out. “I don’t know you at all. I’d never in a million years have married you if I’d known just how black your heart truly is.”

Milah stepped closer to him, her eyes wild as she reached for his tie, yanking him to her.

“You’re the one that blackened it, baby!” she said, pressing herself against his chest. Gold grabbed hold of her arm, forcing her away from him, out of his space, and Milah stumbled back dramatically.

“What are you going to do?” she taunted. “Lay hands on your pregnant wife? You’re no better than Gary Stone. For all that you wrap yourself in expensive suits and gold watches you’ll never be anything more than that brute from Glasgow that you’ve always been.”

Gold seethed, his hand clenched painfully around his cane. He wanted Milah out of his home. He never wanted to see her again. Neither of those desires were realistic or likely to happen. So for now, he needed to go.

“I want a divorce,” he said again, using all his concentration on keeping his voice steady and emotionless. “On that I’m firm. We can negotiate the details later. For now I’m going to stay at the cabin as I don’t wish to ever spend the night under the same roof with you again.”

He turned back to the stairs, intending to pack a bag and be out of Milah’s presence as soon as possible.

“Maxwell,” she called after him and he stopped halfway up the stairs, his hand tight around the bannister. “I don’t want Neal to suffer.”

He nodded, still not turning to face her.

“On that we agree. So let’s try to keep this civil.”

* * *

He didn’t make it to the cabin that night. He didn’t trust himself on the winding forest roads so late, with little sleep and a fragile emotional state. Instead he’d headed back to the shop, tossing and turning on the narrow cot in the back room until the first rays of sunlight cut through the blinds and he was certain he hadn’t actually slept at all.

He cleaned himself as well as could be expected in the sink of the small shop bathroom, shaving his morning stubble blearily in the mirror and managing to only nick himself twice.

His skin looked sallow in the fluorescent bathroom light, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced that usual, and he turned away from his reflection in disgust. He was old and broken and soon to be divorced. He was having a child with a married woman half his age. He had a teenage son who would soon find himself thrust into the middle of the biggest town scandal in years.

He dragged a hand across his face. Despite his best intentions every person in his life was miserable and it could all be traced back to him. It seemed that no matter what he did, he always hurt the people he loved. It was part of the reason he had so few people he cared about in his life. He had always been an expert at driving people away and those still clinging to him by their fingernails were about to be shaken off by the impact of his own implosion. He wouldn’t be surprised if Neal chose to live with his mother full time once he learned the truth.

Neal would be especially prone to never speaking to him again if he found out about the divorce and the baby through town gossip rather than his own parents. He needed to speak to his son, to make sure he heard it from the horse’s mouth rather than a convoluted, sensationalized version of events. God knew what Milah had told him already this morning when he woke up to find his father no longer in residence.

With that in mind he headed out the shop door to Granny’s. He needed a stiff cup of coffee and Neal had started meeting his friend Emma there for breakfast most Saturday mornings before they had SAT prep.

Granny’s was packed on a Saturday morning, half the town getting their fix of eggs, bacon and pancakes served up by a harried looking Ruby and Granny. He cast an eye around for Belle but she must have taken the morning off, unsurprising after the eventful day she’d had yesterday. Part of him hoped she’d gone to the contest after all. He wanted her to have her freedom, to do something wholly for herself. It was why he had paid Gary’s medical bills. She shouldn’t spend her hard earned money on him or anyone else. For once in her life, he wanted Belle to put herself first.

He caught sight of Neal, sitting at a small table in the back of the diner, having what appeared to be a very serious conversation with Emma Swan, their heads together and voices low in the noisy diner. They sprang apart as he approached, Emma looking up at him warily. She was still fairly new in town after coming to live with the Nolans a few months ago and while she and Neal had become fast friends, she didn’t seem to think much of the elder Gold. He figured her foster parents probably had something to do with that. He’d never been very popular with them either.

“Miss Swan,” he said with a nod to Emma. “Do you mind if I speak to my son for a moment?”

Emma shrugged before glancing across at Neal, her green eyes a question. Neal gave the smallest of nods and Emma relented.

“I’ll just go check out the donut selection for today,” she said, pushing her chair back and heading to the counter with one last backward glance at Neal.

“May I sit?” Gold asked his son, gesturing at Emma’s recently vacated chair.

Neal sighed, crossing his arms and leaning back.

“Okay,” he said, stonily. He was staring straight ahead, not giving his father the benefit of his full attention.

“I take it you spoke to your mother this morning?” he ventured as he sat, notching his cane handle on the back of his chair.

Neal nodded stiffly.

“May I inquire as to what exactly she said?”

Neal shrugged. “That you were moving out. That you wanted a new family. That you’re abandoning us.”

Gold shook his head. Of course Milah would frame this to paint him in the worst possible light. So much for civility. 

“And do you believe that?”

Neal shrugged again. “I don’t know what to believe, Papa. You’ve both been acting crazy for months now. I know you and Mom have never been happy together but at least it was predictable. Mom would leave for a month at a time and come back happy and you always seem in better spirits when she’s away too. And then you spring a baby sister on me out of nowhere and now you’re moving out? I just…” he trailed off, shaking his head and leaning forward against the table, his elbows braced against it. “I don’t know what’s going on and you never tell me anything anymore. We used to talk and now it’s like I barely see you. Suddenly Mom is the one who’s home more often and everything has just been weird.”

Gold nodded. He was sure his recent erratic behavior had been distressing for Neal. In his efforts to maintain the status quo he’d completely derailed it.

“I’m sorry, son,” he said, bending his head to catch Neal’s eye. “I know this must be confusing for you. And I’m sorry your mother told you half-truths. I’m not abandoning you or your new sister. I promise that.”

“But you guys are getting a divorce?” he asked. In that moment, despite Neal's deepening voice and the fact that his boy was already taller than him, Gold couldn't help but see the small boy he'd once been sitting in front of him. He'd worked so hard to avoid this conversation, avoid telling a child his parents were splitting up, and yet he found himself here anyway. He'd only delayed the inevitable. He’d been afraid of losing his son, but the sullen young man sitting across from him was as closed off as he’d always feared. He’d driven him away by the very act of trying to keep the family together.

“Yes,” Gold said with a nod.

“Where are you going to live?” Neal asked.

“I’m not certain yet,” Gold said. “For now I’ll be staying at our cabin. Eventually we’ll figure out a more permanent solution.”

“Well where am I gonna live?” he asked.

“Wherever you want,” Gold said. “If you’d like to stay in your old room at the house that’s fine. If you want to live with me when I figure out a permanent living situation I’d be overjoyed. Or you could split time, have two rooms. Two PlayStations if you wanted.”

It would hurt if Neal chose to stay with Milah, but he didn’t expect anything less. The boy would want to stay in his own home with all of his things. He couldn’t uproot his son’s life any more than he already was.

Neal’s lips quirked up in the beginnings of a smile and Gold counted that a win. “I don’t need two PlayStations.”

“Then I’ll get you an Xbox,” Gold countered and Neal rolled his eyes.

“Don’t turn into one of those cliché dads that starts buying me everything I want to make up for getting a divorce.”

“So you’re saying I should return the convertible?”

Neal’s eyes widened.

“Wait, really?”

Gold snorted. “No. You’re only fifteen. Get your driver’s license and we’ll talk.”

There was silence for a moment as Neal picked at the edge of the tablecloth, his eyes wandering over to where Emma was sitting at the counter. She quickly glanced away from him, masquerading that she hadn’t been watching their conversation closely.

“You know, I never wanted you guys to stay together just for me,” Neal said finally. “I didn’t want you both unhappy. It’s all my fault. If I’d never been born you’d both be better off.”

“No,” Gold said fiercely, reaching across to grab his son’s hand. “Never say that, Neal. You are the very best thing that ever happened to us. None of this is your fault.”

Neal nodded and Gold tightened his grip on his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “You are so loved, Neal,” he said. “Please never ever doubt that.”

Neal sniffed, blinking rapidly, trying his hardest to keep his emotions at bay. They shouldn’t have had this conversation here. He should have done it in private. But he needed to tell Neal the truth before he heard anything more from another source.

Neal swallowed, clearing his throat before looking back at his father.

“What did Mom mean about you having another family?” he asked.

Gold sighed, clasping his hands in his lap. This was the uncomfortable part of the conversation. The thing he’d been dreading telling Neal.

“You are about to be the big brother of two new siblings, not just one.”

Neal’s eyes widened. “Wait, what?” he asked, scooting forward on his chair. “Is Mom having twins?”

“No,” Gold said, feeling the color rise in his cheeks. How the hell did you admit to your teenage son that you’d been having an affair? How could he possibly make that sound anything but sleazy? “You know Belle, the waitress here?”

“Yeah,” Neal said warily, comprehension dawning in his eyes.

“Well…” Gold trailed off, spreading his hands.

“Oh God!” Neal exclaimed, his chair skidding back from the table as he recoiled in disgust. “She’s having your baby?”

“Please keep it down,” Gold intoned, glancing around at the other tables watching them with interest since Neal’s outburst.

“Papa,” Neal hissed. “She’s like…young!”

“Yes,” he agreed.

“She’s like barely older than me!”

Gold shook his head. He wouldn’t go that far.

“Now lets not be ridiculous. She’s twenty-six.”

“So eleven years difference,” Neal said. “She’s closer in age to me than I'll be to my younger siblings.”

When he put it like that it was a bit damning.

“I’m sorry, Neal,” he said. “Obviously none of this was intentional.”

“I don’t want to think about it!” Neal insisted, covering his ears with his hands. “It’s bad enough you got mom pregnant when I’m fifteen but now I’ve got to worry about other people too? How big of a horndog are you?”

“Neal!” he hissed. People were definitely watching them now, despite the loud volume of the morning breakfast rush somewhat masking their conversation.

“Sorry,” Neal said. “I just…I don’t know how much more news I can take today.”

“Fair enough,” Gold said with a nod. “I didn’t have any more news in any case.”

"Thank God for that," Neal griped. 

There was a beat of awkward silence and Gold stared down at his hands. He needed Neal to know just how much he meant to him, that none of the other shake ups in his life changed things between them. As far as he was concerned there was his son and then there was everyone else. Neal would always be his top priority. He was certain he'd feel the same way about his second child once they arrived as well. 

"Look, Neal, you don't have to make any decisions about anything right now, but please know that I would love for you to live with me. If you want to stay with your mother, that is, of course, fine as well. But I would miss you terribly. I love you, son."

Neal nodded, not giving him any idea of where his head was at the moment. He was prevented from any further conversation by the arrival of Ruby who dropped off a short stack of pancakes in front of Neal and French toast at Emma's seat. She eyed the two of them but didn't say anything before heading back to the kitchen. It seemed as much of a cue for Gold to leave as anything and he collected his cane from the back of his chair. 

“Well, I’ll let you and Miss Swan get back to your breakfasts,” he said, pushing back from the table.

“Wait,” Neal said before he could get up and he paused, giving Neal his rapt attention. “Do you love her? Belle, I mean.”

Gold froze, staring at his son. His newfound penchant for honesty meant he could only answer one way. But he wasn’t sure how Neal would take it.

“Yes,” he said finally. “I do love her.”

“Oh,” Neal said with a nod. “Are you like gonna marry her or something?”

Gold let out a huff.

“Well, she’s already married.”

“Yeah,” Neal said, cocking his head to the side. “But clearly that’s not going too well.”

Gold snorted. “No I suppose it’s not.”

“So are you going to marry Belle instead?”

Gold’s mouth gaped open, then closed, like a fish gasping for air. He had no idea how to answer that. To say an outright “no” seemed harsh. But he was certain that wasn’t where he and Belle were headed. She wanted away from Storybrooke, not to bind herself to it in yet another way. He was a bad husband in any case. Experience had proven that much. Belle deserved better than this town and the people in it, especially him. 

“I don’t think she’d like that,” he said finally.

“Good,” Neal said, blowing out a breath. “I mean I like Belle. She’s my favorite waitress and she makes the best pies in the world. But I don’t think I want her to be my stepmom.”

“Understood,” Gold said with a curt nod. He could certainly respect Neal’s wishes there. He doubted there was any future for he and Belle’s romantic relationship as much as it pained him to admit.

He walked over to the counter, ordering his coffee to go and watched as Emma scampered back over to Neal audibly asking what was going on. He wondered just how soon the news would spread around town now. Milah and Neal knew the truth but he doubted either of them wanted to stir up the gossip around their own family. Others in town had already guessed due to his public caning of Gary. He tried to find some shred of discomfort, some embarrassment over his private life being laid bare, but no shame came to him. He was concerned for Neal and how others would treat him. And he was concerned for Belle and how the town might turn on her for her association with him. He was certainly concerned about Gary’s reaction to everything, but he would destroy the man if he ever so much as looked in Belle’s direction again.

But he felt no sense of dread when it came to himself. He couldn’t possibly care less what the town thought about him, his relationship with Belle, any of it. He only cared about Belle and his children. Everyone else could hang for all he cared. There was something freeing in that.

He took the coffee from Ruby’s outstretched hand, leaving her a decent tip before heading out into the late August morning. The early fog had burned off, the temperature rising as the sun beat down against the asphalt outside. He certainly had troubles, a whole heap of them, but now that the key parties in his family drama knew the truth, he was almost at peace.

* * *

The rest of the morning passed slowly, the cuckoo clock on the wall taking forever to finally erupt at the alert of midday. The shop was slow, so Gold sat down with a list of his currently vacant rental properties trying to see if any of them would do for his new home.

The truth was he loved the Victorian, from its salmon pink color to the large backyard. He’d bought it when Milah was pregnant thinking it the perfect home to raise children in. It was located on a quiet street and had plenty of space. Milah had never liked it saying it wasn’t her style. She hadn’t spent much time on renovations though he’d offered to change anything she wanted. A new master bathroom had been her pet project when they’d first moved in but save that, the house had remained as it was. That was fine with Gold. He appreciated the old charm of the place. Newer homes just didn’t have the same character, despite their open floor plans and large walk in closets.

He owned a brick, three bedroom house a couple of blocks away from the Victorian that might do. He didn’t need a lot of space, just room for he and Neal. And a nursery, he realized. He wasn’t sure what the custody arrangement between himself and Belle would look like, but he’d like to be prepared. The house would need a fresh coat of paint and he was about to call his handyman when the door to the shop burst open, the bell hung above the door flying across the room for the second time in as many days.

A frantic looking Ruby Lucas stumbled in to the shop, coming to stand in the middle of the sales floor. There were mascara tracks underneath her eyes, her nose red as if she’d been crying. He couldn’t think what she was doing here.

“Miss Lucas,” he said, pushing himself up from where he’d been leaning against the counter. “How can I help you?”

“I uh, I didn’t want to come to you,” she said, distractedly. She kept running her hands over her arms as if she was cold, despite the sunny weather outside. “I’d just call her and warn her but that bastard took away her cell phone a year ago. And I don’t know what’s going on with you and Belle or where you stand, and she’s never exactly been forthcoming about it, but I figure you’re the one person in this town who cares about her and maybe has enough money or influence to help, so here I am.”

“What’s wrong, Ruby?” he asked, his senses on high alert. He stepped out from behind the counter, approaching her slowly. “What’s wrong with Belle?”

Ruby shook her head, blinking tears out of her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said hoarsely, her face crumpling. “I didn’t want to tell him.”

“Who?” Gold asked, his voice getting frantic. “Tell them what?”

Ruby let out a shaky breath, dashing away the tears on her cheeks with the heels of her hands. Her arms dropped back to her sides, her hands fisting in the material of her red mini skirt.

“I didn’t want to tell him,” she said again, with another shake of her head. “God, I wouldn’t have told him if it was just me but Ariel came in and he grabbed her and I…”

Ruby broke off, a sob breaking free from her throat.

“I couldn’t lose her so I told him.”

“What are you talking about?” Gold demanded. His hand clenched around his cane to keep from reaching out and shaking the words out of Ruby.

“Gary,” Ruby said, her eyes finding Gold’s. “He came to the diner looking for Belle. He was angry and I told him to go fuck himself but he grabbed Ariel and I swear to God he was mad enough to kill and all hopped up on painkillers he wasn’t in his right mind.”

Gold’s heart sank to his knees, the shop suddenly spinning around him. Gary must have left the hospital and if he was as angry as Ruby described he could only be after one thing, hurting Belle for Gold’s sins.

“What did you tell him?”

“That she went up to Bangor for that pie contest,” she said. “That was her plan anyway.”

Gold didn’t need to hear any more, grabbing his keys from under the counter before turning to the shop safe and quickly punching in the combination. Inside was a small handgun and he checked the safety before pocketing it. When he turned back Ruby was gaping at him, her face pale.

“What are you going to do?” Ruby called, scurrying after him as he headed for the side door where his car was parked.

“I’m going to find Belle before Gary does."


	11. Chapter 11

Belle had never been to a State Fair before. The closest thing she could imagine was the annual Miner’s Day Festival that took over the town square every spring. But that small festival was nothing compared to the sheer crowds at the Fair.

Her bus had arrived on time to the depot outside town and a shuttle had taken her to the fairgrounds another fifteen minutes away. They drove past a field containing more parked cars than Belle had ever seen in her entire life and she suddenly felt small and silly. The fair was huge and her measly little pies didn’t stand a chance in the face of so much competition. There must have been thousands of people here, milling about outside the ticket booth, queuing up for food and drink, playing the silly carnival games, and waiting around the various event tents for competitions to start. Belle's stomach pitched and rolled, her nausea, for once, having nothing to do with her pregnancy hormones.

The fog had burned off by mid morning, the sunlight streaming weakly from a latticework of clouds and the humidity causing the tendrils escaping from Belle’s ponytail to curl up around her face. She picked at the skirt of her floral printed maternity dress, her nerves almost getting the best of her. She wanted to do nothing so much as hightail it back to the bus station and forget the whole thing. Her baby chose that moment to do a little somersault and it was just the reminder Belle needed. It wasn't about just her anymore.

She found her way over to the event tent where she checked in for the contest and received a nametag. She was then directed to a long row of tables beneath a red tent emblazoned with the logos of at least twenty different sponsors from Blue Fairy brand flour to Pied Piper Pest Control. The plastic tables were covered in red and white checkered tablecloths and Belle found one about halfway down the line with a placard reading “Belle Stone, Storybrooke, Maine”. She took a deep sigh, setting her cooler down beside the table and casting an eye at the competition.

Three tables down from her a portly woman with steel gray hair was setting out what looked to be three separate fruit pies stacked atop each other that she was frosting to mimic a cake. A man to her other side was placing pies with the most elaborate lattice work she’d ever seen onto a multi tiered gold plated cake stand.

Belle shook her head, desperately hoping these were cases of style over substance. There were a few other pies that looked simple like hers, but she was certainly in the minority. Showmanship appeared to be part and parcel of the event.Belle could have kicked herself. It was silly of her not to realize that presentation would be judged as well. Her pies tasted good enough but she'd never made anything worthy of a magazine cover. She glanced down at the white styrofoam cooler she'd borrowed from the diner and nudged it further under the table with her foot. No need to embarrass herself until the last possible moment.

At ten there was an announcement that the judges would be entering the tent at half past and Belle couldn’t put it off any longer. She pulled her three Spicy Rumplestiltskins from the cooler, setting them as artfully as she could on the otherwise empty table. The man with the golden cake plates cast a derisive eye over her offerings.

At least they had survived the trip, the crusts were flaky and perfect and the filling set firmly. All she had left to do was apply the edible gold leaf as the garnish and they’d be judgment ready. She added a generous dollop of whipped topping to the pies, placing the gold leaf artfully on top and then stood back, awaiting judgment as her heart tried desperately to beat through her ribcage.

A few minutes later the judges entered the tent at the far end from Belle. They took their time stopping at each table, jotting down notes on their respective clipboards as they sampled the pies. Belle watched them closely, feeling equal parts dread and excitement.

The judges included a local food blogger Jacinda Vidrio, restaurateur Baron Samdi, and last year’s winner Sabine Dupré, a woman with a wide, warm smile and a twinkle in her eye that immediately put Belle at ease as they approached her table.

“Good morning!” Sabine said, leveling Belle with the full force of her smile. She was bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. “It’s a gorgeous day for pastry, isn’t it?”

Belle nodded, swallowing nervously as Jacinda picked up one of Belle’s pies, turning it this way and that. She set it down again without comment, picking up the knife and cutting a piece to place on a paper plate.

“A nice firm bottom,” Jacinda said, tapping her fork against the underside of the crust. “With a filling this wet it’s a miracle you’ve managed to avoid any sogginess.”

“A tablespoon of flour and a teaspoon of sugar in the bottom before you fill,” Belle said. “That’s what my mother always told me to do.”

Jacinda gave her an approving nod.

“What did you use to thicken this?” Mr. Samdi said, gesturing at the filling.

“Oh, um, tapioca flour.”

“And why did you choose that?” Mr. Samdi asked.

Belle shrugged. “It felt right.”

Sabine was the first to sink her fork into the pie, loading up a good-sized bite before popping it in her mouth. Belle held her breath, watching the other woman chew thoughtfully.

“Oh my God!” Sabine said, her eyes rolling back slightly before she looked back at Belle. “This is perfection! The rum is coming through beautifully and there’s something else in there, something acidic.”

“A little bit of coke,” Belle said. She’d thrown it in on a whim, liking the way the carbonation made the mixture bubble up before baking. “I like rum and coke. Well, I did before…” she gestured at her belly and Sabine let out a laugh.

“Lucky the alcohol burns out,” she said, giving Belle a wink. “Have a celebratory piece! You did great!”

Jacinda and Mr. Samdi weren’t quite as effusive as Sabine had been, but they both looked to enjoy it. Belle wished she could see what they were scribbling down on their clipboards, wondering how she was measuring up to her competitors, but there was simply no way of knowing.

The judges moved down the line to the next pie and Belle gave a sigh of relief. For better or worse, she’d done it. She’d entered the contest and followed through. Even if she didn’t win or even place, no one could take that away from her. As much as returning to Storybrooke empty handed would hurt, at least she could hold her head high knowing she’d done her best for her child. Her little peanut gave a forceful kick as if in encouragement and Belle dropped her hand to her belly pushing back gently.

“We did it,” she whispered.

She eavesdropped on the tail end of Mr. Golden Cake Plates’ evaluation where they complimented his latticework but were noticeably silent when it came to taste. Then the judges moved down the line out of earshot and Belle had no way of knowing how she stacked up against the competition. The other bakers started milling about, talking to each other once the judging was done but Belle stayed parked behind her own table. It felt like leaving the tent, talking to anyone else, even going to find the bathrooms, would pop the bubble she was living in. Right this very moment the judges were deliberating and choosing a winner of the $20,000 grand prize. Belle felt if she left her table with her nameplate on it she would simply cease to be and the whole day would disappear like a popped balloon.

After 20 minutes, a blonde woman in a pink cardigan mounted the small dais at the far end of the tent where a microphone and speaker system were set up to announce that the judges had made their decision. They filed one by one on to the stage as the woman bowed off, going to stand behind a small table where a collection of trophies for first, second and third place stood. Each had a little cherry pie mounted on top. Alongside the trophies were aprons emblazoned with the emblem of the state fair and a handful of coupons from the various sponsors.

Belle’s heart hammered in her chest as she gripped on to the side of her table. But when they had announced the third place and second place winners without calling her name, Belle resigned herself to her loss. There wasn't a chance in hell a small town waitress had actually beaten all these other bakers. She leaned against the folding table, trying to ease her aching back for a moment, and trailed a finger through the whipped cream on top of her pie, popping her finger in her mouth with a wet sound. She tried to steel herself for the disappointment. So she’d failed at her only chance for financial freedom. It wasn’t as though she’d be going home any worse off than she’d been this morning. Hopes and dreams were silly things, after all, intangible and impermanent. Losing them couldn’t hurt you, not truly.

“And the winner of this year’s Bangor State Fair Pie Baking Contest is…” Sabine announced, making a drumroll sound with her tongue. “Belle Stone from Storybrooke with her Spicy Rumplestiltskin Pie!”

Belle nearly slipped off the table, catching herself at the last moment, the rickety table rattling precariously. She shook her head, sure she'd just hallucinated. They couldn't possibly have called her name.

“Get on up here, Belle!” Sabine called to her as applause rang through the tent. Belle shook her head again, unable to believe what was happening. She won. She actually won!

In a daze, she walked up toward the dais. Mr. Samdi had pulled an oversized novelty check for $20,000 from somewhere with her name on it and handed it to her. Someone was snapping photographs and Belle noticed he was wearing a press badge around his neck. Apparently she’d be in the paper. The judges all congratulated her and a few more photos were taken of all the winners with the judges and the contest organizer. Jacinda approached her to ask her to pen a guest post for her blog about her winning recipe. Before Belle knew it, the tent was clearing out in preparation for the hot dog eating contest to be held that afternoon and she was left alone, gripping the novelty check to her chest, the real one tucked safely in her purse.

Her heart was still thumping wildly in her chest, the adrenaline she’d been feeling all day not quite leaving her system. It was strange. So much of her focus for the past few weeks had been geared toward this one moment. She hadn’t actually thought much about what would come next. The future seemed like a yawning chasm, infinite and vast and capable of swallowing her whole.

For the first time ever she had money to her name, money Gary had no knowledge of. Only a few days ago she’d have stolen home, packed her bags, and left Storybrooke forever without leaving so much as a forwarding address. She didn’t have that luxury anymore, not now that Max knew the truth about the baby. Instead she’d have to figure out a way to make a life for herself in Storybrooke apart from Gary. From the moment she'd realized she was pregnant, Belle had been focused solely on running away. She'd never dared to take a moment to consider staying. It appeared that moment had arrived.

She finally left the tent, walking aimlessly around the fairgrounds. The scent of funnel cakes was in the air, the fried dough and sickly sweet powdered sugar making her stomach growl with the reminder that she hadn’t eaten all day. She’d been too nervous.

She stopped by one of the food vendors, buying herself a celebratory order of onion rings before meandering through the throngs of people. It had turned out to be a fine day and Belle lifted her face to the sun, reveling in its warmth. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d just enjoyed being outdoors.

It was a cumbersome walk between her onion rings, the large check tucked under her arm, and her purse laden down with her first place trophy, but she made it work. She finished up the crispy onion rings, tossing the paper container in the trash and licking the salty crumbs from her fingers with a contented sigh. Then she made one last sweep of the fair, past the large Ferris wheel and carnival games, heading toward the edge of the fairgrounds where the shuttle would take her back to the bus station. There was no real reason to hang around even though she knew the bus wouldn’t leave for another couple of hours yet. Still, it was nice to have nothing scheduled, to have freedom. No one knew she was here. She was completely anonymous.

As if to contradict her rare moment of peace, she caught sight of a looming specter on the edge of the parking lot. The hulking form of Gary was walking purposely across the field next to the fairgrounds. His arm was still bandaged, hanging from a sling. His nose was bandaged too, the eye that had been swollen shut the day before now an ugly purplish color, the white of his eye turned red and yellow.

Belle froze, unsure of what to do. The fairgrounds were less crowded over here, most of the throngs of people congregating near the food stalls, music stages, and rides. There were only a handful of people milling about and none of them were paying Belle the least bit of attention.

They were in an open field, nowhere to hide unless she made a run for the port-a-potties. In a split second, Belle decided she was tired of running, of hiding, of making herself small. Today, she would stand her ground, once and for all. She shifted the large check under her arm, letting her success bolster her confidence, and walked toward her husband.

He caught sight of her, making a beeline for her and she met him next to the partition of hay bales marking off the fairgrounds.

“Gary!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here? You should be in the hospital.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Gary said with a grimace. “You want me incapacitated in a hospital bed so you can sneak off without my knowledge. What are _you_ doing here?”

Belle motioned over her shoulder in the vague direction of the contest tent.

“There was a pie baking contest,” she said. “Granny thought I should enter. She said it would be good exposure for the diner.”

“Bullshit!” Gary snapped. “What’s this then?”

He reached out with his good arm, grabbing the oversized novelty check from her hands and Belle stumbled forward with the momentum.

“I won,” she said in a small voice. There wasn’t much point in hiding it when he was holding the evidence in his hand.

Gary looked from the novelty check, to her face, and back.

“What are you going to do with the money?” Gary demanded.

Belle faltered, her hands going to her stomach.

“It’s for the baby,” she said, truthfully. Her child was the only reason she’d entered into the contest in the first place. She hoped to give them a better life. “They need things. A crib, diapers, blankets…”

Gary folded up the cardboard check in his hand, rending it in half before tossing the pieces to the ground.

“No it’s not,” he growled. “This isn’t about Granny or the baby or anything else. This is about you being a selfish bitch. You were gonna leave me, weren’t you? You were going to get yourself a nice chunk of change and then disappear.”

One of the stitches across his nose had popped, blood soaking through the bandage and dripping down his face. He looked deranged, grotesque, the outside finally matching the ugliness within his soul.

She took a step back, not deigning to answer his question. Gary grabbed her by the upper arm, squeezing and she gasped.

“We’re leaving,” he said, turning and dragging her across the field toward the parking lot. “We’re going home and you’re going to explain just why the fuck Mr. Fucking Gold seems so protective of you all of a sudden. Keith said the rumor around town is you’re fucking the old bastard.”

Belle dug her heels in, her shoes skittering along the soft earth, kicking up clumps of dirt and grass. Despite Gary’s injuries and his arm in a sling, he was still twice her size and far stronger. There wasn’t much she could do to stop him physically.

“His name is Maxwell,” she said. Gary stopped and Belle tripped forward, slamming into his side.

“What?” Gary asked, rounding on her, her arm still caught in his death grip.

“His name isn’t Mr. Fucking Gold,” she said, her voice only trembling slightly. “It’s Maxwell. Max. He’s good and kind and he’s twice the man you’ll ever be.”

One moment Gary’s seething face was in hers and the next there was crack against her skull, pain shooting through her face as the back of Gary’s hand collided with her cheekbone. There was a gasp from somewhere to her right, one of the fair goers witnessing the domestic disturbance. She looked across at them, a horrified woman covering her mouth with her hands. When Belle’s eyes met hers she turned and walked the other way. She wouldn't be relying on the kindness of strangers then.

Belle righted herself, still seeing stars dancing across her vision from the force of Gary’s slap. Her heart was hammering in her chest, but it wasn’t from fear. It was anger.

Gary gripped her arm once more, hauling her to him.

“Belle you come with me right now or so help me God…”

“You’ll what?” Belle cut across him. “Beat me to death in front of all these witnesses? In the middle of a state fair? Even you’re not that stupid.”

Gary’s nostrils flared with anger, his jaw clenched so tight she was surprised it didn’t shatter his teeth.

“What the fucks gotten in to you?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. There was a time when that tone would have terrified her, but those days were gone. Gary had rendered her so numb for years on end. Numb to love, even for her own child. Numb to the pain of living with him. Numb to everything but the uneasy feeling in her stomach, the little spark of fear that accompanied her day in and day out, the panic that lived in her chest so long she couldn't remember life without it. But she was free of Gary. He wasn’t the father of her child. He wasn’t a paycheck to keep a roof over her head. Soon he wouldn’t even be her husband. He was just a sad, small man and more than anything, she pitied him.

“Self respect,” she hissed, trying to pull her arm from his grip. “I won. I did that. Without you or anyone else, just me.”

“Big fucking deal,” Gary scoffed. “You baked a pie.”

“I baked the best pie,” she countered. “You always told me I was no Sara Lee. You always told me it was a stupid hobby. Everyone raves about my pies except for you and now I know why. You wanted me to think I was nothing without you when the truth is you’re afraid you're nothing without me.”

“You’ve lost your goddamn mind,” Gary said, yanking her toward the parking lot.

“Let me go,” she said, her voice steely.

“Never!” Gary roared, attracting attention from around the field. Good. Let strangers witness this. Let everyone see how pathetic Gary Stone really was. “You are my wife. You’re mine, you hear me?”

“No,” Belle said, pulling away from Gary again. “I’m not yours.”

“So what, you’re Gold’s now? Is that what this is all about?”

“I’m not anyone’s property,” Belle said. “You can’t love someone if you want to possess them. You’ve never understood that and you never will.”

Gary grabbed her wrist, twisting it in his grip until she had no choice but to stumble toward him.

“You _are_ mine,” he whispered roughly against her ear. “I love you and you love me. That’s how it is.”

She looked up at him, at the black and blue marring his face. The eye that wasn’t purple looked desperate and, more than anything, afraid. He was terrified of her leaving him and he always had been. It’s why he’d crushed her self worth and independence for so long. He couldn’t bear the thought of being alone.

“I don’t love you, Gary,” she said, more sure of that than she’d ever been sure of anything in her whole life.

“What?” he hissed out, his eyes darting around at the few stragglers still in the field. Belle wondered if he was measuring his chances of being able to hit her again without consequence. 

“I don’t love you,” she repeated. “You’re cruel and selfish and arrogant. I’ve wanted out of our marriage for years, almost as soon as it started. We don’t need you and we never have.”

Gary dropped her wrist, shoving her back from him. Belle stumbled, her foot catching on an uneven patch of ground and she went down hard, her hands instinctively cradling her belly instead of shielding herself from the fall. She landed on her side, the wind completely knocked out of her. After a stunned moment she felt wetness in her underwear and realized with abject mortification that the baby must have landed on her bladder, causing her to wet herself. She'd read such a thing was possible, but she hadn't even felt the urge to go. She just sat there, shamefaced for a moment while an ugly smirk crossed Gary's face.

“Is there a problem here?” came a cool voice from behind her. Belle craned her neck to see Sabine from the contest. She was holding the two halves of Belle’s discarded award check in her hands, her brows drawn together in concern.

“No,” Gary said, using his good hand to grab Belle by the arm and haul her up to stand. Gary started dusting grass from her skirt and Belle shoved his hand away. Gary turned back to Sabine, giving her one of his usually winning smiles, the kind that earned him adoration in Storybrooke. The effect was somewhat ruined by the bruises across his face and the blood dried across his nose from where his stitches had split. “Just having a little conversation with the missus. She's real clumsy.”

Sabine looked him over slowly, her eyes raking over his haggard appearance with disgust.

“Do you need me to call the police?” she asked Belle, her eyes never leaving Gary.

"No," Belle said. “Gary was just leaving, weren’t you?”

Gary's smile faltered, his gaze going back to Belle. 

"Don't you need a ride?" he asked, his tone light in spite of the fury she could feel coursing beneath his words. 

Belle shook her head. "I've got everything I need. You can go." 

Gary bent his head a little, his voice low enough that Sabine couldn't hear.

“This isn’t over,” he snarled.

“Yes,” Belle said, amazed at how little her voice wavered. “It really is.”

An off duty police officer in a black shirt marked “Security” stepped up, standing next to Sabine and Gary eyed him, particularly the gun sheathed at his hip. Another security officer was approaching from the other side and Gary cut his losses. He turned in a huff, stomping away, and Belle gave a sigh of relief at his retreat.

Sabine stepped up behind her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

"Are you okay?" she asked. 

"Yeah," Belle said, turning with a nod. "For the first time in a really long time, I think I am."

Sabine smiled, giving her shoulder a squeeze, but Belle's attention was stolen by someone else. 

"Max!" she exclaimed. 

He was standing a few yards away, resplendent in his three piece suit as usual, leaning lightly on his cane. He looked incongruous standing in a sun drenched field, framed by the Ferris wheel at his back. The State Fair was hardly his natural habitat and yet here he was.

Sabine glanced behind her and then back to Belle, her eyebrows lifting. "I'll, uh, see you later," she said, giving Max a once over as she headed back toward the fair. She shot Belle a thumbs up from behind his back. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked as he approached, stopping a few feet away from her, keeping a respectful distance.

“I, uh, came to rescue you,” he said, giving her a self deprecating smile.

Belle snorted, shaking her head. “I told you before, I don’t need rescuing. I never have.”

Max nodded. “I can see that."

There was an awkward silence, the two of them unsure of what to say next. Everything was still so tense between them. They were in love, they were expecting a baby, and nothing was as simple as it should have been. 

“How did you know I was here?” she asked. She thought she'd effectively snuck away from Storybrooke for the day but all her troubles had followed her.

“Ruby,” Max said. “She told me that Gary was looking for you. He attacked Ariel. I came to stop him from hurting you.”

“He did what?” Belle exclaimed. Gary had never been bold enough to hurt someone other than her. She hated to think that her actions had driven him to attack one of her friends. “Is she alright?”

“Fine,” Max assured her. “But I’m certain she’ll press charges. Gary there is headed home to an arrest warrant, I’ve no doubt.”

Belle jabbed a thumb over her shoulder in the direction Gary had stormed off.

“I doubt that’s the last we’ll see of him, but at least…” she trailed off, her hand dropping to her stomach. Max was at her side in a flash.

“Belle?” he said. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” she said with a nod, breathing through the twinge of pain that had just flared to life in her lower abdomen. “Just a little cramp. I think I’ve stood up for too long today.”

Max didn’t look entirely convinced, but he stayed silent, wrapping an arm around Belle’s shoulders and helping her through the parking lot.

"We should get you looked at," he said. "Just to make sure the baby is alright. I saw you take a fall." 

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Everything hurts when you're this pregnant. And it's not as though I'm lacking in cushion at the moment."

"Belle, please?" he asked. "I haven't been there to help you through this for the bulk of this pregnancy. Let me help at the end."

“Fine," she agreed as they reached his Cadillac. "But I can take the bus. You don't need to drive me back."

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Max said with a toss of his head. “I’m here and I’m headed the same place you are. Why shouldn’t we ride together?”

Belle cast an eye over him as he helped her into the passenger’s side seat, her hand rubbing absentminded circles over her belly.

“Because,” she said. “Milah, Neal, the town…” she trailed off.

“Milah knows,” Max said as he slid into the driver’s seat with fluid grace Belle couldn’t help but envy in her current cumbersome state. “I told her last night.”

Belle couldn’t contain her shock, her mouth gaping open.

“You told her?”

Max nodded.

“She already suspected. I hardly think it was a shock,” he said as he turned the car on and started to ease out of the crowded lot. “She also agreed to a divorce.”

Belle shook her head, certain she was having an aneurysm. She couldn’t imagine a world where Max not only left Milah, but got her to agree to a divorce.

“How?” she asked, otherwise speechless at this new information.

Max smiled, glancing sideways at her as he turned on to the interstate headed back to Storybrooke.

“We had an honest conversation,” he said. “Our first in probably a decade. We came to the conclusion that we would both be much happier if we went our separate ways.”

“But, what about Neal? What about the new baby?” Max had spent months insisting that staying with Milah was best for his children and now in the span of one night he'd done a complete 180. Belle had the uncomfortable feeling it was because of her pregnancy. On her own she hadn't been enough incentive for Max to leave his wife, but now that she was pregnant with his child she suddenly was. A swell of resentment bloomed in her chest and she turned, staring out the window unseeingly at the blur of trees on the side of the road.

Max shrugged.

“Neal is adaptable. I've already spoken to him about it and, as uncomfortable as that was, I think he'll be alright. As for the new baby, she isn’t mine, though I’ll give her my name if no other father comes forward. And I realized something yesterday.”

“What?” Belle asked, the dull pain in her abdomen becoming sharper, cresting before ebbing away again. She hissed in pain, her teeth grinding together at the feeling.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Max asked, taking his eyes off the road to look at her with concern. “Are you having contractions?”

Belle shook her head. “Braxton Hicks,” she said. “I read about them. They’re false contractions that get your body ready for labor, not the real thing.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because I’m only 33 weeks. It’s too early. The baby isn’t due for almost two months.”

Max still looked concerned, his eyes darting back and forth between Belle and the road before them.

“Babies are born preterm all the time, Belle,” he said. “And you’ve been through a lot of stress today.”

“I’m not in labor!” she nearly shouted. “I’m 33 weeks pregnant, okay? Everything hurts, everything is sore, my ankles, my back, my fucking vagina, all of it! And on top of that I was slapped in the face by a 200-pound man today, so no, I’m not feeling my best. But I think I would know if I was in labor.”

“Gary hit you?” Max demanded, the car swerving to the side as he jerked to look at Belle.

Belle arched an eyebrow at him. “Shocked that you hitting him didn’t stop him hitting me?”

"I'll kill him next time," Max growled and Belle shivered at his tone. She didn't doubt him for a minute.

"Please don't," she said wearily. "He's not worth it and the last thing I need is you going to prison." 

Max was angry, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly and his jaw set. Belle cast around for something to distract him, some way to lessen his rage. She didn't want him going after Gary again. No matter how she hated her husband, she didn't want him dead. She didn't want that on Max's conscience. 

"So what was it?" she asked. "The thing you realized yesterday?" 

"Ah," Max said with a nod. "Only that my whole life I’ve tried to do what was right for the people I love and, despite my best intentions, I’ve only ever made things worse. I try to make them happy, and I fail. I try to keep them safe, and they resent me for it. I have made mistake after mistake and now I realize I've approached it all wrong." 

"Oh," Belle said, unsure of where Max was going with this. 

“So instead of doing what I think is best, I’m going to do what makes me happy and hope that happiness spreads."

Belle raised her eyebrows at Max's new outlook. As long as she'd known him he'd been unhappy. She could see it in his eyes, weighing on him with his ever present scowl. The town thought he enjoyed being miserable, but she'd always known the truth. 

“So step one of this new track is divorcing Milah I take it?”

Max nodded.

“So what comes next?”

"Well, working out a custody arrangement for Neal," he said. "My gut instinct would be to let him live with his mother in our home but I've decided to fight for my rights as a parent. I'll take Neal's wishes into consideration, of course. But I won't lose him. After that I plan to find myself a place to live with plenty of room for my children. And after that I plan to take you to dinner."

Belle's eyes widened. She didn't think she could be more stunned by what Max had to say but he kept one upping himself. 

"Are you asking me on a date?" she asked haltingly. 

He glanced sidelong at her, suddenly seeming nervous.

"I am," he admitted. "Belle, I sped here from Storybrooke, breaking every possible traffic law. The drive took me thirty-nine minutes when it should have taken close to an hour. And every one of those thirty-nine minutes was agony because I was terrified I'd lost you. All I could think is that I let you walk out of the shop last night without telling you how much I love you. I know you're angry with me, as you have every right to be. And I know it's possible that you might never want a _real_ relationship with me out in the open. But..." he glanced her way again, giving her a small smile. "I couldn't forgive myself if I didn't ask." 

"Oh," Belle said, rendered momentarily speechless. She tried to gather her thoughts. She loved him too, more than she'd ever loved anyone. But was he only acting this way because of the baby? If she hadn't been pregnant with his child would he be doing any of this? Was she just Milah 2.0? 

She didn't realize she'd asked the question aloud until the car started to pull over on to a weedy slice of shoulder and Max threw the car into park. 

He turned to face her on the wide bucket seat, taking her hands in his own. 

"I love you," he said fiercely. "You, Belle. Yes, I was worried for our child as well, but you were foremost in my mind. If you told me right this moment that the baby isn't mine, that it's Gary's or anyone else's, that wouldn't change. I want you not because of the baby, but because you're Belle."  

Belle surged forward, gripping him by the sides of his face and pressing her mouth to his. She had only ever wanted to be chosen, to be good enough. For it to happen twice in one day seemed an embarrassment of riches. 

"I love you too," she murmured against his lips. "It's been killing me how much I love you."

Max chuckled, smoothing his hands through her hair. 

"Why?" he asked.

"Because I didn't want to leave you," she said, pressing her forehead against his. The seatbelt was cutting into her hip uncomfortably, but she didn't care. All the aches and pains of the day, even the dull throbbing in base of her belly, seemed to fade away. "It was tearing me apart."

"Don't leave," he said, pressing fluttering kisses to her eyelids, her forehead, her cheeks. "Stay with me. Move in with me. Marry me. I want it all. I want you." 

Belle shook her head and Max's hands dropped from her hair as he pulled away. 

"Oh," he said with a nod. "I understand. It's too much and too soon and..." he trailed off noticing the look on Belle's face. "What's wrong?"

Belle gripped her belly, it had tightened, her flesh rock hard against her palms. Pain like she'd never experienced ripped through her, her breath catching in her chest. The wetness she'd felt when she fell, when she'd thought she'd peed herself, started to pool beneath her on the seat, rushing out of her in a steady stream. 

"Oh no!" she gasped.

"What is it?" Max demanded. 

“Either I wet myself, or my water just broke on your leather seats.”

Max’s face had gone very pale as he glanced down to where Belle's sundress was sodden.

“We’re still thirty minutes from Storybrooke,” he said.

Belle felt another contraction then, this one worse than previous ones put together.

“Then drive faster!” she yelled, her hand gripping the door handle so hard she was surprised it didn’t break off in her hand.

“Right,” Gold said, pulling back on to the road and accelerating far past the speed limit. “Hold on, sweetheart. Everything is going to be just fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes. I did have Belle go in to pre-term labor after eating onion rings. I'm a really terrible person.


	12. Chapter 12

It was too early. That was the thought that kept running through Belle’s head on a loop. It was August 26th. Her baby was due in October. Seven weeks early was too much. 40 weeks was how much time Belle was supposed to have, the deadline by which she had to have her life together. It had never occurred to her that the baby might come early.

She had her eyes shut tightly, the motion of Gold’s Cadillac as it zipped down the highway rocking her back and forth until she thought she might be sick. Labor was supposed to take a long time, right? She had a hazy memory of her mother saying she’d been in labor with her for 14 hours. They had plenty of time to get to Storybrooke.

Her hands fisted in the sodden fabric of her skirt as another wave of contractions hit. Something was wrong, she was absolutely certain of it. She hadn’t wanted this baby, she’d been ambivalent about it throughout her pregnancy, but now, faced with losing it, her latent maternal feelings seemed to have kicked into overdrive.

“Are you alright?” Max asked from the driver’s seat, chancing a glance her way.

Belle clenched her teeth together through the pain, nodding her head.

“Can I do something to take your mind off things?” he asked, his voice light but wavering with anxiety at the same time. “Perhaps we could discuss baby names.”

“Okay,” she gritted out, sagging back against the seat as the contraction ended and feeling as weak as a newborn kitten, all energy sapped from her by the latest wave of pain.

“Have you considered any options?” he asked.

Belle let out a huff.

“I suppose Gary Junior is out,” she said wryly, rubbing at her belly as she tried to take deep, calming breaths.

Max’s head snapped back to her, his eyes wide, until he saw the small smile on her face.

“Yes,” he nodded, turning his focus back to the road ahead of them. “I’d like to veto that option.”

Belle let out a weary laugh, letting her head roll back against the headrest. She hadn’t given much thought to baby names, truth be told. It suddenly seemed a gross oversight. Why hadn’t she looked through a baby name book in all this time? She knew the baby would come out eventually and have to be given a name. But just like she’d blinded herself to knowing the sex of the baby, she’d also put off naming it. A name made things real. Well, this baby couldn’t be more real at the moment.

“Colette for a girl,” she said finally. “After my mother.”

Max nodded again. “That’s perfect.”

“I hadn’t given much thought to a boy…” she cut off as another contraction began, her breath catching in her chest.

Max reached his right hand out to her and she took it, gratefully, squeezing the life out of his poor appendage until the contraction had passed. For his part, Max didn’t complain.

“They’re getting closer together,” he observed, his eyes flicking to the clock on the dashboard. “That was just over five minutes.”

Belle nodded, racking her brain for the information she’d read on labor over the past few months. It was when they were less than five minutes apart that she’d be in active labor. They still had time.

She breathed her way through the contraction, relieved when it was over, and loosened her grip on Max’s hand.

“Where should we go on our date?” he asked, apropos of nothing.

“What?” Belle asked, lifting her head to look askance at him.

“I imagine we won’t be able to get out much for a few weeks at least, but I did ask you on a date before our child so rudely interrupted.”

Belle smiled weakly. “So you did.”

“Any requests on what we do?” Max continued.

Belle shook her head.

“I haven’t been on a first date in nine years. Gary took me to a Storybrooke High basketball game and was too cheap to buy me a Pepsi. Everything was downhill after that.”

Max snorted. “I think I can safely promise you a Pepsi.”

“I prefer coke anyway,” Belle quipped.

Suddenly she gasped and Max nearly swerved off the road as he reached for her hand again.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice panicked.

Belle slapped a hand against her forehead. “I don’t have a hospital bag!” she exclaimed. “I hadn’t even packed one yet. The book said you’re supposed to have one with socks and a bathrobe and pajamas and things for the baby. I don’t even have a baby blanket! Or a car seat! Or a _car_!”

“It’s okay,” Max said with a visible sigh of relief that her concern was only for material considerations. “I’ll call Ruby. She can gather some things for you and meet us there.”

She nodded as Max pulled his cell phone out. She was so glad he was here. She was scared, but at least she wasn’t doing this alone. If Max hadn’t shown up when he did she’d be in labor on a public bus at the moment.

Luckily they managed to arrive at the hospital in one piece, despite flouting all posted speed limit signage. Max helped Belle out of the car and they made quite the pair, a waddling pregnant woman clinging to a man with a cane for support. He sat her down in one of the waiting area chairs while he went to check her in at the front desk and it was a matter of moments before Belle was settled in a wheelchair and about to be taken back to labor and delivery, Max at her side.

“Well fancy running into you two here,” came a voice from behind them and the hair on the back of Belle’s neck stood on end. She craned her neck around in the wheelchair to see Milah approaching them, her compact bump encased in a form fitting dress and showing off her otherwise fit body. Belle was too busy to compare herself to the other woman for once. She was sure she was a mess, sweaty and red faced with amniotic fluid soaking her thrift store sundress while Milah was still in heels at 7 months pregnant. All she cared about was getting an epidural as soon as humanly possible.

“Milah,” Max gritted out between clenched teeth, her very name seeming to cause him physical pain. “We’re a little busy at the moment. If you’d excuse us.”

“I’m just here for my checkup,” she said lazily, ignoring Max’s sense of urgency.

Belle could feel another contraction starting to crest and she gripped on to the armrests of her wheelchair with white knuckles.

Luckily Max was above being baited by his soon to be ex-wife and he shrugged her off, following a nervous looking nurse in green scrubs.

“Good luck,” Milah called as the nurse wheeled Belle through the doors separating the maternity ward. “You know your body is never quite the same after a baby. Might want to invest in a gym membership!”

“Your wife is horrible,” Belle managed between gritted teeth as the doors swung closed behind them.

“Yes,” Max said simply. “Imagine dealing with it for fifteen years.”

Belle was soon changed into a clean hospital gown, balling up her ruined dress and stuffing it into the plastic bag given to her for her belongings, and before she knew it she was laid up in a hospital bed, strapped up to a variety of wires monitoring all of her and the baby’s vitals.

The nurse strapped a wide band around her belly and Belle watched as the monitor next to her bed spiked to life with her baby’s steady heartbeat.

“It’s okay?” she asked, biting her lip.

“They’re just fine,” the nurse said reassuringly. “They’ve got a good, steady heartbeat and are just eager to meet their mommy.”

Belle nodded, her heart hammering in her chest and echoed by her pulse on the monitor. Mommy. She was about to be someone’s mother and there was no going back now, no way to clamp her legs together and force it to wait until she was mature enough to handle it.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Stone!” boomed a voice as Whale swanned in to the room. He’d been good to his word ever since Belle’s first appointment, never congratulating her or acting overly excited about her predicament, but his generally jovial disposition could not be reigned in. “It’s a beautiful day to have a baby.”

“Her water broke about forty-five minutes ago and her contractions are five minutes apart,” Max offered, stepping forward next to Belle’s bedside now that the nurse was finished prepping her.

Whale glanced at Max but if he found his presence in the delivery room strange, he didn’t let on.

“Alright, let’s see what we’re working with.”

He helped Belle get her feet up into position and placed a blanket across her knees to protect her modesty before ducking down to check her. A moment later, he emerged from between her legs, a benign smile on his face.

“Well, you’re about three centimeters,” he said. “Since your water has already broken, we have to deliver in the next few hours or risk infection so I’m going to go ahead and get you on some Pitocin to speed things up.”

Belle shook her head. “It’s too early,” she said.

Dr. Whale laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“You’re 33 weeks, Belle,” he said. “It’s a little early, but babies come early all the time. We can handle this. What I need to know is, can you?”

Belle took a deep, steadying breath. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

Dr. Whale huffed a laugh, patting her shoulder. “You’re going to do great. Just try to relax for now.”

He jotted a few notes down on the clipboard hanging on the end of her bed before turning to leave.

“Drugs,” Belle called after him. “I want drugs. All the drugs. No more pain, okay?”

Whale smiled at her. “I’ll send the anesthesiologist right in.”

Once Belle had been given her epidural she was truly stuck in her hospital bed. Her legs had gone pleasantly numb and she could no longer feel the contractions at all, instead watching them ebb and crest on the monitor beside the bed without the slightest discomfort. After an hour Dr. Whale reappeared to check her progress, declaring her to be at five centimeters.

“Halfway there!” he exclaimed before ducking out again.

Belle heaved a sigh. Labor, she decided, was boring.

“I wish I’d brought a book,” she said, crossing her arms atop her belly.

“I could get you one,” Max exclaimed, hopping up from the armchair he’d taken residence in. “There’s a small selection in the gift shop. I wouldn’t be gone long.”

Belle smiled. Max hated feeling helpless and the best thing she could do for him at the moment was give him an errand.

“That would be wonderful,” she said. “And maybe some ice chips if it’s not too much trouble.”

He nodded eagerly. “Consider it done.”

She listened to the tap of Max’s cane as it retreated down the hall, the shuffle of nurses and doctors outside her door, the low hum of the television mounted on the wall. It had been a very eventful day and now she was alone with her thoughts, as peaceful a moment as could be expected in her current condition.

Belle squirmed a bit, trying to get comfortable in the hospital bed with half her body gone completely numb. The feel of the epidural in her back was icy cold as another hit traveled through her system. She was grateful for it, but it still felt strange.

Once she was as comfortable as she could reasonably be while in active labor, she closed her eyes, letting her head sink into the pillows. Who knew how long she would end up being here. She needed to save her strength and rest up.

She only had a few minutes of solitude, just starting to drift off, when there was a forceful knock against her door before it swung open.

“Who the bloody hell are you?”

Belle’s eyes shot open to find a man in jeans and a black leather jacket framed in the doorway of her room.

“Who are you?” she returned.

“Killian Jones,” he said, as if that information should mean something. “I was told I could find Mr. Gold here.”

Belle let her head fall back against the pillows again. “You just missed him,” she said. “Better luck next time.”

“Never mind Gold,” Jones said, stepping in to the room. “I’m looking for his wife. I heard she went into labor.”

“Oh no, not the wife,” Belle said. “Just the dirty mistress.”

Jones’ dark brows drew together. “Gold has a mistress?”

Belle waved a hand in his direction. “Don’t worry,” she said lightly. “His wife is cheating too. Nothing is sacred anymore.”

Jones just looked even more confused. “You mean to say Milah isn’t here?”

Belle sat up again, bracing a hand against her belly. “Last I saw her, she looked far from giving birth. Just perfect. A little _too_ perfect, you know?.”

Jones shook his head. “Well I need to talk to Gold in any case. Do you mind if I wait?”

Belle snorted a laugh. She didn’t think her delivery could actually get any stranger, so why not have an actual stranger in the room during labor?

“Sure,” she said sarcastically, waving a hand out in welcome. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Jones nodded, crossing to the far wall beneath the television set and leaning against it with his arms crossed and a surly expression on his face. Belle turned her attention to the muted home renovation show that was playing on the TV. Watching people rip out kitchen cabinetry was surprisingly cathartic.

“I’m here!” a voice yelled out in the hallway followed by Ruby bounding in to the room and grabbing on to the doorframe as her heels skittered beneath her. “I made it!”

She was panting and holding up a small overnight bag in one hand.

“I got everything,” she said between deep breaths. “Clothes, shampoo, underwear, baby clothes. Oh and I got some of those super jumbo pads because Granny said you’re going to be bleeding like a bitch.”

“Thanks, Ruby,” Belle said wearily.

Jones made a disgusted sound and Ruby spun to face him.

“Who are you?” she asked, finally realizing there was someone else in the room.

“Killian Jones,” he said simply.

“Huh,” Ruby mused, cocking her head to the side. “Why does that name sound familiar?” Then she gave her head a shake, walking further into the room and setting the overnight bag in the armchair Max had recently vacated before flopping down beside it.

“Ariel is on her way too,” Ruby said. “She was just closing up the diner and heading over.”

Belle glanced at the clock on the wall. It was only six in the evening, smack in the middle of the dinner rush.

“Why are you closing so early?”

Ruby shrugged. “Everyone’s here. We’re not letting you do this alone.”

Belle shook her head. “Everyone?”

Ruby nodded. “Yep. Granny and Anton are in the waiting room. Dr. Hopper and Leroy are here too and a bunch of the other regulars. When Gold called, I announced to the diner that you were in labor and everyone wanted to come wish you well.”

Belle suddenly found herself blinking back tears. “I didn’t know anyone cared about me.”

Ruby raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“Of course they do,” she said. “You’re the first friendly face half this town sees in the mornings. Your pies are about the only thing this town can take pride in. Even people who don’t know you that well love you for that alone.”

Belle sniffled, holding in the tears that wanted to fall. She’d felt so alone, so isolated, for so long. To think that anyone, much less a waiting room full of people, cared if she lived or died was frankly overwhelming.

Ruby reached out for her hand, twining their fingers together.

“Hey,” she said, and Belle glanced up at her. “We’ve got this, you know? This kid has so many potential babysitters it’ll make your head spin.”

Belle nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

A soft knock came from the partially opened door and Ariel stuck her head in.

“Just me,” she said softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Belle said truthfully.

Ariel tiptoed into the room, coming to stand next to Ruby, giving Belle a wide smile. She had angry red marks marring the pale skin of her neck, but otherwise looked unharmed. Belle felt a lurch in her belly that had nothing to do with labor and everything to do with guilt.

“I’m so sorry,” she told Ariel. “It’s all my fault that Gary went after you.”

“Hush,” Ariel admonished her, her voice little more than a whisper. “Nothing that man does is your fault. You just focus on having a healthy baby.”

Ruby turned to look at Ariel, her brows drawn together.

“Why are you whispering?” she asked.

“I’m trying to be a peaceful, calming presence,” Ariel returned in the same hushed voice.

Belle snorted. “I’m having a baby, I’m not an invalid. You can talk at a normal volume.”

Ariel sighed, propping her hands on her hips.

“Fine,” she said, her voice back to normal. “Just trying to be considerate but if you’re all gonna make fun of me, forget it!”

“Listen, do you know how much longer Gold is going to be?” Jones asked from his spot against the wall. He made a show of checking his wristwatch and Belle rolled her eyes.

Ariel spun around to see who had spoken before letting out an earsplitting squeal, slapping her hands together.

“Seaman27!” she exclaimed, pointing at Killian. “It’s you!”

Killian’s mouth fell open. “Ariel, right?” he said, pointing back at her.

“Yeah!” she said excitedly. “You were the single worst date I’ve ever been on!”

“Likewise,” he agreed with a small laugh. “Not one thing in common.”

“Nope,” Ariel said with a shake of her head.

Ruby was glancing back and forth between Ariel and Jones, then she stood up walking over to Jones before sticking out her right hand to shake his.

“Thank you,” she said, pumping his arm.

“For what?” he asked, bewildered.

“If not for a truly terrible date with you, the love of my life might still be chasing her happy ending with a man instead of realizing it was with me all along.”

Ariel gasped, her hand coming to cover her mouth.

“I’m the love of your life?” she said, her voice wavering.

“Yeah,” Ruby said, turning to face her and taking her hand. “I love you Ariel Fisher. More than I ever thought it was possible to love someone.”

Ariel squealed again, hopping up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to Ruby’s lips. Ruby wrapped her arms around Ariel’s waist, lifting her up off the ground and kissing her even harder.

“I’m really happy for you guys,” Belle said from her spot in her hospital bed. “But I’m kind of having a baby right here!”

Ariel broke away from Ruby with a laugh, their fingers still entwined.

“It’s not every day Ruby Lucas says she loves you,” she pointed out. “But we’ll get out of your hair.”

Before they could leave, the door opened again and Max returned from his excursion to the gift shop.

“Your choices were terrible romance novels or terrible mystery novels so I went ahead and got both,” he came up short when he saw the collection of people stuffed in to Belle’s small room. “What the bloody hell?”

“I have some visitors,” Belle said, reaching for the plastic bag looped around Max’s wrist. He handed it over without a word and she dug out the two paperbacks he had chosen. One had a shirtless man in breeches pressed up behind a voluptuous woman in a far from historically accurate Regency style dress. The other had a farmhouse with a blood red moon hanging over it in the night sky. She shrugged, flipping them both over to read the summaries.

“We were just leaving,” Ruby said, pulling Ariel by the hand. “Let us know if you need anything!”

Belle waved off her friends. It was nice to have their support but she was getting quite tired. It had been a long day.

Max’s eyes followed Ruby and Ariel from the room before snapping back to Jones.

“And who might you be?” he asked.

Jones step forward, taking a deep breath and fixing Max with a glare.

“My name is Killian Jones and I want you to know that I love your wife,” he said, hands fisted on his hips like some sort of superhero stance.

Max raised an eyebrow. “Well that’s fine. I hope you’re very happy together.”

He turned back to Belle, handing her a cup of ice chips as Jones’ mouth fell open, gaping like a fish out of water.

“What?” he demanded.

Max glanced at him over his shoulder.

“As you can probably see, Milah and I have separated. She’s free to do whatever she wishes, not that she hasn’t been doing that for years in any case.”

Jones shook his head. “But she’s pregnant with your child,” he accused. “You’d just abandon her like that?”

Max breathed heavily through his nose, turning an annoyed expression on Jones.

“Belle is pregnant with my child,” he said, gesturing toward her. “Milah is pregnant, but I assure you I had nothing to do with it.”

Jones shook his head again like a dog dispelling water from its ears.

“She…she said that you had reconciled,” he said. “She told me you were committed to raising the baby together.”

Max sighed, shaking his head slightly.

“She lied,” he said flatly. “If you want to be with Milah, you should probably get used to that. As it is, I haven’t sampled her delights in years, so I’d say this one’s on you.”

Jones stumbled back. “I’m to be a father,” he said, his voice so low Belle was certain he wasn’t speaking to them. A wide smile broke across his face, his blue eyes bright. “I’m to be a father!” he repeated, before dashing out the door of the hospital room.

“Well,” Belle said, thumbing through the romance novel to the smutty bits. “All’s well that ends well.”

Max found his way back to the recliner at her bedside, sinking down into it wearily. 

“I suppose so,” he said with a little shake of his head, his dark hair falling in his eyes. “This has been a strange few days.”

Belle snorted, not taking her eyes from her book.

Max cocked his head at her. “Are you looking for the sex scenes?” he asked.

Belle smiled. “I’m out of commission at the moment, I have to live vicariously.”

“I could read it to you, you know,” he said with a flirtatious tilt of his head.

Belle threw her head back with a laugh. “I don’t know if I could handle that,” she said. “I doubt I should get hot and bothered during labor.”

In the end they settled on Max reading to her from the mystery novel instead. It was formulaic and contrived, but it did manage to pass the time until Dr. Whale turned up once more to check on Belle’s progress.

“10 centimeters,” he said, popping up from between her legs with a broad smile. “It’s time to push.”

Belle’s eyes widened.

“What? Already?” she asked. It had been agony waiting around in the hospital bed, but now that it was time for the baby to come out, it felt like the time had gone much too quickly.

The room was suddenly a frenzy of activity, nurses checking on Belle’s vitals and getting her into position, her feet up in stirrups and her bare backside almost hanging off the edge of the bed once it had been dropped down into position. She still couldn’t feel much of anything, a slight pressure in her nether regions but no real pain.

“Are you sure?” she asked Whale as he took his position between her spread legs.

“Positive,” he said with a nod. “It’s time.”

The nurse at her side took Belle’s hand in her own, placing it against her belly.

“When you feel your belly tense up, that’s the contraction,” she said. “I want you to bear down and push when we feel that.”

“O—okay,” Belle said, feeling overwhelmed. Max had been pushed out of the way while she was being prepped for delivery, but he made his way back over now.

“I’m here,” he said, tucking an errant curl behind Belle’s ear. “I’ll be right here the whole time.”

Belle nodded, but a second later she felt her belly seize up and the nurse squeezed her hand.

“And push,” she said.

Belle bore down as hard as she could, pushing until sweat broke across her brow and she was running out of breath.

“And stop,” the nurse said after a minute. “Rest between contractions. Just breathe.”

Belle leaned back against the bed, feeling like she’d just run a mile.

“We’re almost there, Belle,” Dr. Whale said. “Just a couple more good pushes and you’ll meet your baby.”

Belle’s entire body was trembling, her mind racing. Her heart was beating so quickly inside her chest she was certain she was in the middle of some kind of attack.

“I can’t do this,” she said with a whimper. “I can’t be a mother. I don’t know how to take care of a baby.”

Max came to her aid, gripping her free hand tightly in his.

“Neither did I,” he confessed. “My mother left before I could even crawl. I’d give my father some credit for sticking around until I was 10 if he hadn’t told me every day of those ten years what an unwelcome burden I was. I didn’t have any sort of example to go on and I’m positive I didn’t turn out to be anything special, but Neal…” he trailed off, shaking his head fondly. “Neal is better than I could ever hope to be. He’s the very best of me. So I must have done something right, despite not having a clue.”

Belle nodded, trying and failing to blink away the tears in her eyes. Max smoothed her hair back from her face, his big, warm hand a soothing presence.

“You’re not alone Belle,” he said. “You have me. And if that’s not enough, you have an entire waiting room full of people who can’t wait to dote on your baby. You’re already a far better mother than you think you are. You won a contest for him. You stood up to Gary for him. You can do this.”

Belle let out a shuddering breath. She could do this. She had to do this. If she could send Gary on his way she must be able to do almost anything.

“Him?” she asked. Max just shrugged.

“A hunch.”

The nurse signaled that it was time to push again and Belle fell into the routine. She would push for just shy of a minute, then catch her breath for a few minutes before starting again. By the time Dr. Whale said that he could see the head, it had been the better part of an hour and she felt there was little strength left in her body.

“Just one more big push, Belle,” Dr. Whale coached. “They’re almost here.”

Belle bore down, screaming out in pain and exhaustion and frustration. Then, all of a sudden, there was a feeling of immense relief, the pressure completely gone. A moment later, a thin, high wail pierced the air. Dr. Whale stood, a naked, bloody little thing cradled in his gloved hands.

“It’s a boy!” he announced happily. Belle looked over at Max, but his attention was riveted on the baby, his hand loose in her grip.

One of the nurses took the baby, cleaning him off and wrapping him snuggly in a blanket before taking him over to Belle and depositing him on her chest.

She instinctively cradled the baby to her, feeling awkward and lumbering with something so small and delicate. Like the slightest move might break him.

The baby’s eyes were shut tight against the bright lights of the hospital room, his mouth opening and closing though no sound was coming out. He turned his face, burrowing against her chest, little snorting noises coming form his nose.

“Oh,” Belle said, looking down into the pink, squinched up face of her newborn son. “Oh!”

She didn’t even notice as the doctor and nurses cleaned up and stepped out of the room to give her privacy. Her attention was riveted on the baby in her arms, the slight weight of him all at once terrifying and comforting.

He blinked, his large, dark blue eyes opening and locking on to her face and just like that, everything changed. Belle felt as though she’d been struck by a bolt of lightning, a shock going through her and piercing her heart, tethering her entirely to another soul for the first time.

“Hey,” she said dumbly. “I’m your mama.”

The baby wriggled in her arms making a little snorting sound by way of introduction.

“You’re real,” she said, stroking her fingers across his downy soft cheek. “I mean of course you’re real, but you’re real.”

His mouth opened, his little lips smacking together in the dearest expression she’d ever seen. He had dimples. Just liked his father.

He was a person, her person. Just a few moments ago he’d been an idea, a concept, something that she had dreaded and resented for stealing away her options and now he was her child.

Belle realized belatedly that there were tears in her eyes, trickling down her cheeks and landing on her son’s head, dampening the little tuft of brown hair sticking out from under his snug little cap.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered. “So beautiful.”

The baby managed to wiggle one arm free of his swaddle, flailing it around in the air above him and Belle let out a wet giggle, kissing his tiny little fist.

Max was standing by the wall, giving her this moment alone with her child. While basking in the overwhelming burst of love blooming in her chest, she’d almost forgotten he was there.

“Hey,” she said, looking up at him with shining eyes. “Come meet your son.”

He staggered forward, looking nervous and a little lost. He leaned his cane against the side of the hospital bed, perching himself on the mattress beside Belle.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, cupping the arm Gideon was currently nestled in as if he was afraid to touch the baby outright. “He’s perfect.”

Belle nodded, gazing at the profile of the man she loved as he stared down in awe at her child. _Their_ child. She didn’t know a person could feel so much love. How was it possible she wasn’t bursting apart with it? After years of feeling so numb to everything, it was almost too much.

“There’s nothing quite like it, is there?” Max asked, and Belle shook her head.

“I didn’t know it was possible to love anything this much. And I only just met him.”

“Love at first sight,” Max murmured. “Does he have a name?”

Belle took a moment to think, gazing down at the sweet little face of her son. Names ran through her head, each one more ridiculous than the last until one surfaced from far back in her memory. A happy memory, one that came with thoughts of her mother and the smell of dusty old books at her library.

“Gideon,” she said decisively. It was the name of the hero in a novel her mother used to read to her when she was a girl. Gideon was strong and loyal and brave and perhaps the name would give her son strength when she surely failed. “Gideon Lucas…Gold.”

Max’s eyes snapped up from their son to meet hers. “Gold,” he repeated. “Are you certain?”

“Well I’m not giving him Gary’s name,” Belle said with a shrug. “Or my father’s. He’s your son. I’m done lying and hiding the truth. I just want a life with no more secrets.”

Gold nodded, looking back at Gideon, snug in his mother’s arms. He placed his hand gently atop Gideon’s small head, a smile crossing his face.

“You’re a very lucky boy, Gideon,” he cooed. “You already have so many people who love you.”

Speaking of people who loved him, they only had a few brief moments of solitude as a new family before the well-wishers descended on them. Ruby and Ariel were first, squealing over the new baby and each wanting to hold him in turn.

“Are you sure he’s premature?” Ariel asked, weighing the baby in her arms.

“Are you sure he’s not Gary’s?” Ruby tacked on.

“Bite your tongue!” Belle exclaimed, reaching for Gideon.

“Sorry,” Ruby said with a shrug as Ariel deposited him back in his mother’s arms. “He’s just huge. And you and Gold are both…not.”

Belle shrugged again. “My dad was tall. I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t carry him to term. The doctor said he was on track to be ten pounds.”

“I’m sure your vagina is very grateful,” Ruby quipped.

Their next visitor was Granny, bustling in and looking over Gideon in the bassinet beside the bed, proclaiming him to be a fine looking baby, and then depositing a card on Belle’s lap.

“Just a little token for the occasion,” she said, backing toward the door. Belle snapped it up at once, slipping a finger beneath the flap on the envelope and prying it open.

“Don’t…” but before Granny could finish her sentence, Belle had ripped open the envelope, pulling out a cutesy congratulatory card with a baby bunny on the front. It was heavy though, a thick packet of paper folded inside the card.

“What’s this?” Belle asked, unfolding the paper and smoothing it out across her lap. Her eyes skimmed over the page, her mouth falling open.

“Is this the deed for the diner?”

Granny looked sheepish. “I wish you’d have waited until I’d left.”

Belle shook her head in confusion.

“But you don’t own the diner,” she protested. “Max does.”

Granny and Max shared a loaded look.

“Actually, no,” he countered. “Mrs. Lucas and I have had an ongoing agreement for the past few years. As of two weeks ago she owns the diner outright.”

Belle looked back and forth between Max and Granny, her head spinning.

“You bought the diner,” she said, her voice flat.

“Yes,” Granny said with a sharp nod.

“And you’re giving it to me?”

“Not giving,” Granny said with a shake of her head. “Entrusting. I know you’ll do right by it.”

“But what about Ruby?”

“Ruby’s dream isn’t that diner,” Granny said. “Don’t worry about Ruby. The diner isn’t my only asset. She won’t be left with nothing. And I trust you’ll give her a job at your new pie shop for as long as she wants one.”

“Of course,” Belle agreed. “But what will you do?”

“Retire,” Granny replied with a wave of her hand. “I still have the Bed and Breakfast in any case and at my age, I don’t want to be up at 4:30 every morning making eggs. I’m in my twilight years, Belle. I should probably see about enjoying them.”

Her hands, still gripping the deed, felt numb. A sense of relief washed through her that left her light headed. She had her own shop, the only thing she’d ever truly wanted. But there was fear there too.

“What if I fail?” she asked, her voice coming out meeker than she would have liked.

Granny gripped her hand, squeezing it tight and crumpling the papers. “You won’t.”

One more no nonsense nod of her head and Granny was headed to the door. She was never one for shows of sentimentality.

Belle stared down at the papers in her lap, scarce believing they were real.

“Granny,” she called after the old woman. “Granny’s won’t be the same without, well, _Granny_.”

The old woman just winked at her. “Then name it something else.”

The door shut with a gentle click, leaving her alone with her little family and the key to her whole future just plopped in to her lap like manna from heaven.

Belle bit her lip, glancing aside at Gideon, sleeping soundly in the bassinet and back at the deed. In one day she’d been given a whole new lease on life. She had a son, her own shop, and a date with Mr. Gold. After a lifetime of losing, it seemed unbelievable that she could have such a streak of good luck. The pessimist in her told her it was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped and she tried to push that voice aside and live in the moment.

“What are you thinking?” Max asked, sitting beside her on the narrow hospital bed.

Belle shifted, letting Max wrap his arm around her shoulders and snuggled in to his side. She took a deep breath, the familiar scent of Max’s cologne making her smile in spite of her worries.

“I’m thinking I’m happy.”


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's done! Thank you to everyone who read this story and commented on this story and recced this story. I appreciate it more than you know.

The grand re-opening of the rebranded Colette’s Pie Shop was the talk of the town for more reasons than one.

First off, Granny’s Diner had been closed for months leaving the only places to eat out in town either the pricey Tony’s or the fish and chips stand by the wharf. The second reason was the pie. Belle hadn’t realized just how deep Storybrooke’s sweet tooth ran until Granny’s closed two months ago when renovations could no longer be done with the business operating as usual. Over that time, in addition to overseeing things at Colette’s, she’d been baking pies at home and delivering them all across town. Birthdays, holidays, or just a random Tuesday, Storybrooke wanted their pie, and Belle wouldn’t sniff at the extra income now that she technically didn’t have a job.

It had been a lot of work over the past year. Belle had to draw up a business plan to present to the bank to secure a sizeable loan for the remodel and rebranding. Max had offered to loan her the money, of course, but she’d preferred to do things on her own. For the first time ever she was truly independent and she was loath to part from that independence no matter how well intentioned the help offered.

She had accepted Max’s help in another area, however. He’d recommended an excellent divorce attorney who’d managed to secure a restraining order against Gary and collected on the ten thousand dollars Gary owed him. Without a job, a a wife, or a penny to his name, Gary had been forced to move in with his parents who lived a blissfully long three hours away. She’d seen neither hide nor hair of him since the divorce finalized six months ago and Belle had high hopes of never seeing him again.

The soft opening for the pie shop was scheduled for a Friday night in July, smack in the middle of summer vacation, and a line was already queuing up a half hour before they were due to open.

Belle darted around doing last minute cleanup, Gideon balanced on one hip as he clapped his hands and giggled.

“Belle,” Ruby said, grabbing her by the shoulder. “Everything is perfect. Stop worrying.”

Ruby held her hands out for Gideon who went to her willingly and Belle heaved a sigh, wiping a hand across her brow.

“I just can’t help but feel like there’s something left to do,” she said, casting an eye around the diner. The counter had been completely replaced, all the décor done up in shades of pink and mint green. The black and white tiled floor was spotless. The brand new tables and vinyl covered retro chairs scrubbed until they gleamed. Each table had a shiny new napkin dispenser and kitschy salt and pepper shakers shaped like coffee cups. The refrigerated glass display case was filled to bursting with all of Belle’s most popular pies.

Glancing back at Ruby, Belle shrugged. “I guess we did think of everything.”

“Told you,” she said with a wink.

Belle bit her lip, the nagging feeling continuing despite Ruby's words. She'd been going non stop for so long now that she couldn't quite believe this was really it, the calm before the storm of opening.  

“Do you think this new uniform clashes with my hair?” Ariel asked, coming through from the kitchen and pulling at the full, pink skirt of her dress before smoothing down the matching gingham apron.

“You could wear the green one,” Belle pointed out. “No one said you have to wear pink.”

Ariel cocked her head at Ruby’s uniform, eyes narrowed, before giving a decisive nod.

“Trade with me,” she said, starting to pull at the zipper at her back.

Ruby rolled her eyes, setting Gideon in his high chair before starting to pull off her own uniform.

“Can you guys do that in the bathroom?” Belle asked. “The doors are going to open any minute and I don’t want my waitstaff naked in the dining room.”

“Might increase business,” Ruby quipped as she grabbed Ariel’s hand and headed to the back of the diner.

Gideon let out a loud squeal and Belle handed him his teething giraffe from inside her own apron pocket. He was cutting his top two teeth which had led to a few sleepless nights lately, on top of her already stressful days. After the opening she could use a nice, long vacation. Belle snorted a laugh. That wasn’t likely.

The bell on the door jingled merrily as someone entered the diner and Belle spun to tell them they weren’t open yet before breathing a sigh of relief.

“It’s just me,” Max said, anticipating her. “I thought I’d come by and take the little one off your hands before things get too crazy.”

“Dada!” Gideon babbled happily, reaching his pudgy arms out toward his father. Max ruffled his hair, but instead of picking up Gideon he turned back toward Belle.

“You look anxious,” he said.

Belle realized how tense she was holding her shoulders, her hands fisting the fabric of her yellow uniform skirt. It took effort to unclench her jaw and try to relax.

“Well wouldn’t you be?” she snapped, then sighed. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a bear to live with these past few weeks.”

“Belle,” he said, taking her by the hand. “Breathe.”

She did as he instructed, taking a deep breath through her nose and exhaling through her mouth.

“You did it,” he said, tugging on her hand so she stepped closer to him. “You succeeded.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Not quite yet,” she said. “I could still fall flat on my face.”

“You won’t,” he said with an assuredness she wished she felt.

“This shop is my baby,” she said. “Born the same day as my actual baby. And it’s not just my dream, it’s my mother’s dream too. I can’t fail.”

Max glanced out the wide front windows where the line down the street was clearly visible.

“I’d say that failure is nigh on impossible. Look at that crowd! Neal said the entirety of Storybrooke High would be here tonight.”

“Well it’ll only be a success if they keep coming back.”

“And they will,” he said with a nod, pulling her close so he could kiss her gently on the lips. "You're brilliant." 

Gideon chose that moment to throw his toy giraffe on the floor and Belle stooped down to retrieve it, handing it back to him and planting a kiss on his round cheek. When she turned back to Max he was sitting in one of the mint green cushioned chairs, his cane balanced across his knees and a very conspicuous looking box held in his hand.

“Oh,” she gasped, her heart lodging in her throat until intelligible speech seemed all but impossible. “Oh, please no!”

Belle gasped again, slapping a hand across her mouth.

“God, I don’t mean _no_ no. Obviously, yes, I’ll marry you. But please, please don’t do this right now. I’m so stressed out I can’t even function and I don’t want to not remember this moment because it was smack in the middle of another big moment just…”

“Belle,” Max cut her off with a bemused smile. “Open the box.”

“What?” she asked.

He held the box aloft in one hand and Belle took it numbly. But when she popped it open there was no diamond solitaire like she’d expected.

“A key,” she said dumbly, pulling it from the satin cushioning of the box. “Are we moving?” She loved the old pink Victorian and in any case, she didn't feel up for packing up boxes any time soon. 

Max snorted, standing up with the help of his cane.

“No,” he said. “Milah agreed to give me the house and she can’t go back on that now. This is a key to the library.”

Belle raised an eyebrow. “My mum’s library?”

Max nodded, reaching to take the key from her hands.

“The mayor has agreed to reopen once a suitable librarian is found. And there’s been a memorial fund set up in your mother’s name to pay for repairs.”

Belle just blinked. This was all so unexpected. She’d been focused on achieving one of her mother’s dreams that she hadn’t even thought of Colette’s other legacy, the boarded up building under the clock tower across the street.

“Mama would like that,” she said with a nod.

“Well it just makes sense,” Max said. “The library is directly across from the diner and nothing goes better with a new book than a slice of pie and a cup of coffee. It’s a symbiotic relationship. The library will benefit from the diner and vice versa.”

Belle nodded, a small smile playing across her lips at the idea of her mother’s library, the scene of her few happy childhood memories, restored to its former glory. Until she realized what she’d just done.

“You weren’t proposing,” she said flatly.

Max gave her a wry smile.

“I’m _proposing_ we go over to the library later tonight and take a look at what we have to work with.”

Belle felt like she’d just swallowed a brick. She’d rejected, then accepted, an unintentional marriage proposal from the love of her life. It was a ridiculous thought in hindsight. They were both so recently divorced. She wouldn’t be surprised if Milah had soured Max on the entire experience. He may never want to be married again, no matter that they had a child together and had lived together for the past few months and were as committed as they could possibly be without a wedding.

“Oh, God,” Belle covered her face with her hands. “Pretend I didn’t say any of that. Of course it’s too soon and we’re both so busy and it wouldn’t make a lick of sense, not to mention Neal is still getting used to all of this. I’m such an idiot.”

“Hey, none of that,” Max said, pulling her hands away from her face and meeting her eyes. “You said yes.”

Belle rolled her eyes. “But you weren’t proposing so it doesn’t matter.”

Max shrugged. “It’s useful information to have in any case.”

Belle narrowed her eyes at him. “What does that mean?”

“It’s just nice to know you’d marry me if I ever thought to ask,” he said with a smirk “I’m not, by the way. Asking.”

Belle shoved Max by the shoulder.

“If you ever ask me for real, I promise to say no on principle,” she joked.

Max snorted a laugh, going to retrieve Gideon from the highchair.

“Mummy is a dirty liar,” he whispered against the little boy's ear. Gideon giggled, grabbing at Max’s tie as he shifted him to his hip.

“Get out of here before I throw a pie at you!” Belle called after them as Max headed for the door with Gideon.

“Don’t waste the pie,” he called back. “By the looks of that crowd, you’ll need it!”

Belle smiled, feeling much lighter than she had a few minutes ago. Ruby and Ariel returned in their swapped out uniforms and the three friends linked hands.

“Ready for this?” Ruby asked with a glance at the clock.

Belle nodded. “Colette’s is open for business.”

Later that night, after the rousing success of Colette’s Pie Shop’s soft open, Mr. Gold led Belle across the street to her mother’s library only to find it full to bursting with flowers, soft candlelight and music. And there in the middle of the New Fiction section, he got down on one knee and proposed.

And Belle went back on her promise and said yes for a second time.


End file.
